


White Rabbits

by Butterfly



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-06-27
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 102,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through the Force, everything is connected. Anakin and Obi-Wan find this out first-hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through the Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [White Rabbits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354206) by [tamtam3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamtam3/pseuds/tamtam3)



> The beginning starts one year before _Revenge of the Sith_.

The foul, dank air of the cave was doing little to improve Anakin’s mood, which had been going steadily downhill as the day progressed.

Or failed to progress, as the case seemed to be.

The reasons why the Council, in all its wisdom, had believed that the rebels of Hargoeth would be willing to listen to reason were completely escaping Anakin. They were a filthy, miserable faction, one that would spell doom for their entire people.

Anakin would see to that.

They would see how foolish they’d been, after the Separatists wiped them out. They’d want the help of the Jedi then, when their children were cut down by unfeeling battle droids. When the blood of their people ran silver in the streets, they’d scream out for aid.

They would know, in those last moments, the cold truth that their own people were to blame for the Republic’s withdrawal.

And whatever they’d done to Obi-Wan, whatever hurt they’d caused him, Anakin would personally see to it that they would pay the appropriate price.

He knew that if Obi-Wan were here, he would chide Anakin for his uncharitable thoughts.

If Obi-Wan were here…

But he _was_ here, somewhere. And Anakin would find him.

Anakin would not fail this time.

His bond with Obi-Wan might be weakened at the moment, but it wasn’t severed -- it wouldn’t serve as a homing beacon, but it did reassure him that wherever Obi-Wan was trapped, he was still breathing.

Anakin shivered, pulling his cloak more securely about himself.

If Obi-Wan were here, after the lecture, he would… tell Anakin to be calm and still, to allow the Force to guide him.

He supposed that it was worth a try.

Anakin let out a quick breath and dropped to his knees.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the mottled blues and grays of the cave walls around him. He pushed away the close scents of excrement and carnage, and ignored the sounds of small creatures rustling in the distance as the jungle came back to life. He dulled his sense of the world around him, of the rocky floor underneath him and the slimy muck that clung to his cloak.

The meaning of time itself drifted from Anakin as he searched for that inner peace that Obi-Wan always found so quickly.

Three different possibilities, three different tunnels… and the Force refused to show him which choice would bring him closer to Obi-Wan.

Mediating wasn’t helping.

Anakin let out another impatient breath. Thinking like Obi-Wan wasn’t helping either. Not that it ever did.

If Artoo were here, Anakin could have scanned for Obi-Wan hours ago.

At the time, Anakin had been unable to argue with Obi-Wan’s reasons for leaving Artoo behind. Anakin and Obi-Wan hadn’t come as fighters, but as negotiators, and the people of Hargoeth were known to be mistrustful of droids.

In retrospect, of course, Obi-Wan had been completely wrong, and Anakin would enjoy telling him that just as soon as Anakin had _located_ him.

Well, as Padmé had told him once, inaction aided no one. He had to choose. If he went down the wrong tunnel, he could always retrace his steps and start over. As long as he could still feel Obi-Wan, he had time.

Anakin opened his eyes, and the world rushed back in.

The tunnel on the left sloped slightly downward, and he could only see down it for a few meters before it curved out of sight. The one on the right had a sharper descent and seemed to go on for quite a long distance before there were any turns. The middle tunnel was roughly level, and clearly the one most used.

Given the kind of day that he’d had so far, down seemed the most appropriate direction to go.

“Right it is,” Anakin said. He felt a brief, irrational surge of relief that Obi-Wan wasn’t there to see him talking to himself.

He took the tunnel entrance at an energy-conserving jog, doing his best to extend his awareness outward, just in case he sensed something from one of the other passageways. He pulled his lightsaber off his belt and ignited it, the blue light bouncing off the walls of the tunnel.

In time, the tunnel started to turn, twisting inward and underneath the other tunnels. And Anakin’s sense of Obi-Wan’s presence was stronger than it had been at the entrance to the cave.

Anakin sped up.

Finally, the walls of the tunnel opened up as he burst into something of a room. Roughly circular, empty but for a wooden door at the far end, inexpertly and recently wedged into the rock face.

Obi-Wan was on the other side of that door.

Anakin slowed to a halt just before he reached the end of the chamber, and he stretched out his senses, trying to determine if Obi-Wan’s captors were still with him.

He frowned when Obi-Wan was the only presence he picked up.

Had that little toad Ulgdo been telling the truth, then, when he’d said that his people meant the Jedi no harm? Unless they believed they'd weakened Obi-Wan enough… but still, to avoid even the simple precaution of a guard, it would be foolish.

But Anakin had sense such fear from Ulgdo, far before the end, fear that Anakin had thought was unwarranted if they’d wanted him to find Obi-Wan.

It had to be a trap.

But as Obi-Wan had taught him, knowing that there _was_ a trap didn’t make the path that he needed to tread any less necessary. It just meant that Anakin would need to be on his guard. And the best thing to do in this kind of situation was to be straight-forward.

Anakin reached out with the Force, ripping the shoddy door to pieces.

And there, before him, was a pool of what looked to be water, stretched from wall to wall. And lying on the far side of the water was Obi-Wan, unconscious.

Anakin tightened his grip on his ‘saber and leapt across the water-

He landed in a heap on the other side, agony slicing through him. He could feel the pain of Dooku’s lightsaber, a thousand times over, in every part of his body. His mother’s voice was screaming in his head, calling out for him, begging and pleading. He could hear Padmé crying softly, and it was his fault, he was breaking her heart. Obi-Wan’s face, old and worn, smiling and then gone, and an aching absence where their bond should be. The fires of Qui-Gon’s funeral pyre circled around Anakin, and he couldn’t breathe.

And then, through the shudder of pain, Anakin heard a voice, unfamiliar and yet known, calling out to him.

 _I've got to save you._

A name came to Anakin’s lips and he whispered it, soft and uncertain, “Luke?”

But the thought was gone as quickly as it had come, and the odd sensations started to recede, leaving a lingering weakness.

Was this what they had done to Obi-Wan?

Anakin forced himself to open his eyes. He could still see Obi-Wan, lying just outside his reach. He used his mechanical hand to pull himself forward, gougingfinger-shaped holes into the rough floor.

Anakin pulled himself up against the wall nearest Obi-Wan, and then reached out towards Obi-Wan with both his hands and with the Force.

His mind touched Obi-Wan’s and Anakin felt almost light-headed with relief as Obi-Wan reflexively responded, his mental touch as soothing as always. Obi-Wan was warm and solid, and Anakin pulled him closer, cradling Obi-Wan’s head in his lap while he recovered his strength.

Whatever had happened, it had taken more out of Anakin than he’d thought he could endure, and if it had caused _him_ that much pain, he shuddered to think at what it had done to Obi-Wan.

But it hadn’t felt malevolent. Painful, yes, but not evil.

Anakin sighed in frustration, gently stroking his real hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. Soon enough, Obi-Wan would wake up, and they would solve this mystery in the best way possible – together.


	2. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke starts to uncover some truths.

The room was bare, austere even – it was oddly humbling to realize that this was where his father had chosen to live, though from what Luke had gathered, Vader hadn’t often stayed in the city, preferring instead to hide himself up on his ships.

Still, it seemed appropriate to start here.

Luke wished for a moment that Leia was here to help, but he could understand why she didn’t want to learn more about Anakin Skywalker.

Her adopted planet, the one that Luke knew she still thought of as ‘home’, had been destroyed by the Empire. She'd been hounded by Imperial forces all her life. And Vader had not just been the monster in the night to Leia – she’d stood before him, face to face, and had hated him, personally.

Luke could understand her reluctance.

A part of him shared it, even if he hadn’t been willing to say as much to Leia.

And that was why it had taken him nearly a year to get around to this.

Why he was hesitating, even now.

Still, knowledge and intuition were the balancing points. And it helped to start with knowledge.

This apartment had been the first known home of Darth Vader. Whenever he’d returned to Coruscant, he’d stayed in it. Yet, there was no hint of him here.

No hint of anyone.

Luke moved closer to the window of what he felt had once been a bedroom, noting that, even here, there wasn’t a single piece of furniture. He could see the faint traces of blue on the walls, though the color was buried under layers of white paint. There had once been decorative moldings on the edges of the room, there, but they had been shaven off and plastered over. The floor had also been tampered with, smoothed down and bleached until it was as pale as the walls.

Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to rid this place of any trace of humanity that it had ever owned.

And, slowly, Luke began to realize that there _was_ a presence here, one that felt old, like it should have long ago faded from the Force, yet had been kept unnaturally vibrant.

But it was not that of Darth Vader or even of Anakin Skywalker.

Instead, he could see the glimmer of carefully applied color around wide brown eyes and the shine of tousled dark curls spilling over pale shoulders. When he concentrated, there was a floral scent in the air, light yet intoxicating. And now he could hear the faintest shadow of a woman’s voice, sweet-toned and hopeful.

 _I want to have our baby back home on Naboo._

 __

It was a soft whisper of a memory, echoed and refined until it was the only imprint in the entire apartment.

Something meant to be remembered.

Naboo… Luke could recall being told that, before the apartment had been taken over by Vader, it had been the occasional home of the Senator from Naboo.

Luke stretched his awareness further, trying to feel for anything more.

He just heard the same words as before, repeating over and over.

Vader had turned this entire place into a barren shrine to some unknown goddess.

“Who are you?” Luke whispered back, pushing with the Force. “Why are you still here?”

There was no answer but that lost wish, caught in an eternal loop.

Luke sighed and turned away from the window, heading toward the door to the bedroom. He took one step and then felt an odd quiver in the Force.

A lightsaber clattered to the floor.

And even though there was no one else in the room, suddenly, he could feel a very familiar presence.

“Obi-Wan?” Luke called out, walking over and then carefully picking up the lightsaber. It looked a little like old Ben’s weapon, from what Luke remembered of it, but how could it be here? Where had it come from?

And if he could feel Obi-Wan’s presence, why hadn’t the blasted man just shown himself?

His sense of Obi-Wan continued to strengthen, emanating from the same spot the lightsaber had fallen.

Something told Luke that he should back away, just a little.

And then the Force… rippled. Luke had never felt anything like it. And there, in the center of the room, the air itself seemed to be turning inward. The room darkened and Luke stumbled, propping himself up against the wall.

He felt an odd flash of insight – he was the power source of this, somehow. Whatever was happening was pulling the needed energy straight out of him. 

His vision blurred and he could feel himself sliding down the wall. He heard the dulled click of the lightsaber hitting the floor, again, and he’d never felt colder in his life. His very essence was being yanked toward the energy spike in the middle of the room, but there was no pain, just an overwhelming weakness that flooded through his system. As he felt himself hit the floor, Luke sent out a desperate mental cry to Leia, but whatever was happening, he already knew that she would arrive far too late to stop it. The air crackled around him and there was a flash of light, blinding both Luke’s vision and his sense of the Force.

When his vision cleared, Luke found himself to be completely speechless.

There, sprawled out on the bare floor of the room, was Obi-Wan Kenobi.


	3. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan nurses a headache and gets confused.

Obi-Wan cautiously opened his eyes, snapping them shut again as the brightness around him intensified the ache in his head.

He must have been moved by someone, because he didn’t remember any intense lights down in that cave. Actually, all he could remember was the water, and the pain, and Anakin screaming out for him.

If they’d hurt Anakin…

Well, that was a situation that he would have to deal with in due time.

Right now, he had to concentrate on the present, on his current situation.

He clearly wasn’t where he had been – the blinding light had been a big hint there. And he could hear the hum and buzz of speeder engines very close by. A city, then, though it didn’t sound like an Outer Rim city.

In fact, it sounded remarkably like Coruscant on a slow day, but that was… well, not impossible, but it meant that he’d been unconscious far longer than he’d suspected.

He realized with a start that he didn’t know where his lightsaber was.

Anakin would be sure to notice that, once Anakin found him.

Obi-Wan began to reach out to Anakin with the Force and then stopped cold.

He couldn’t feel Anakin.

He couldn’t feel anything.

Obi-Wan took in a single, controlled breath, and then let it out. There had to be some kind of external reason for this. He would find out what was blocking him from the Force. He would fix it. And if he couldn’t, Anakin would, when Anakin found him.

This was fixable.

After another moment, Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, more slowly this time.

The sterile, white room looked oddly familiar, and it certainly resembled one of the more common styles of Coruscant apartments.

And there was someone behind him, gulping in air in ragged breaths.

Obi-Wan straightened himself up from the floor and turned around.

The other person in the room was a young man around Anakin’s age, who was bracing himself up against the wall. How increasingly peculiar. Was this one of his captors or was this man another prisoner?

“Obi-Wan?” The young man asked, an intense emotion of some sort on his face. He was dressed in a black uniform of unknown origin, and on his belt… he wore a lightsaber. Dooku’s apprentice, perhaps?

“Do I know you?” Obi-Wan asked, taking a step back and to the left, nearer to the door. The young man looked confused and then reached down to pick up a lightsaber from the floor.

It was Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. So close, and he hadn’t sensed it at all.

Obi-Wan took another circling step away, but the man held the lightsaber out towards him.

“You should,” the man said. “It’s Luke. You trained me.”

“I’ve only had one apprentice, young Luke, and no intention of ever taking another,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out to claim his lightsaber. At first, the man… Luke held onto his end, but after a moment, he released it into Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan slipped the lightsaber back on his belt, not allowing any trace of despair to show on his face. Even without the Force, he would be able to use the lightsaber, be able to fight. “You must be mistaken.”

“I’m not.” Luke said, his voice certain and strong. But without the Force, Obi-Wan couldn’t know whether or not Luke really believed that. And Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t even imagine entertaining the thought of taking a Padawan learner, not now and not ever, not when it would certainly mean breaking up the team. Unless… had he lost his memory, lost time? Woken up in a new world, one where he and Anakin were no longer partners? But he didn’t _feel_ any older. “But maybe it hasn’t happened yet, for you.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping his expression guarded. He ran an assessing eye over Luke – he was certainly fit and he carried himself gracefully, as a Jedi should. And… he wore a glove over only his right hand, like Anakin. But that was a popular enough fashion accessory these days. All the boys wanted to be like the great Jedi warrior, Anakin Skywalker. Still, oddly, with the glove and with his coloring, he looked more than a little like Anakin, though he had sharper features.

“You’re younger than you should be, than I remember you being,” Luke said. He waved his gloved hand towards his head. “Your hair… is darker.”

“You’re someone that I’m to teach in the future?” Obi-Wan asked. He still couldn’t understand why he would ever take another apprentice. Anakin was more than enough to worry about. And if, in the future, Anakin left the team to take his own Padawan, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine _that_ inspiring him to go out and teach someone else.

“You don’t believe me,” Luke said quietly. Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, still feeling more than a little bewildered by this entire chain of events. “Can’t you just… know that it’s true?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. Clearly, Luke either didn’t know that Obi-Wan was Force-blind or was pretending not to know, for some hidden reason of his own. Well, there was no point in lying – if anything, it might put him at an advantage, if Luke assumed that the Force had been Obi-Wan’s only ally.

And all he really had to do was stay alive long enough for Anakin to find him.

“Something is blocking me from the Force,” Obi-Wan said. Luke’s reaction was far more extreme than he’d been expecting – the man was clearly deeply pained by the news, as if he truly were someone that Obi-Wan knew well. Deeply pained or just a very good actor.

“How… who… why…” Luke trailed off, looking as though someone had kicked him in the head.

“Try to concentrate on one question at a time, young Luke,” Obi-Wan said. “And as for the ones you just asked, they are the questions that I am attempting to answer even as we speak.”

“And?” Luke prompted him.

“I’ve had no success so far, but I’ve only just began to explore the possibilities,” Obi-Wan said. He glanced back over at Luke. “How far into the future do you claim this is?”

“I don’t know, how far into the past are you from?” Luke shot back. “Look, the time frame that I can give you isn’t going to mean a lot unless I know what you’re working from.”

“Why not?” Obi-Wan asked, taking in Luke’s highly defensive posture.

“Because there are things that you might not want to know yet,” Luke said, the tone of his voice sharpening.

There was only one thing that Obi-Wan could think of, something that explained him having another former apprentice, something that that apprentice might know that he wouldn’t want to know.

Anakin must be dead, in this time.

Obi-Wan turned away from Luke, only slightly aware that he was giving the man an opening to strike him down.

He just… needed a moment to consider the possibility.

Obi-Wan knew well enough that no one lived forever. It was not the will of the Force, which rode the waves of the ever-changing now. And so, Obi-Wan had let go of many things in his life, including his own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. As a Jedi, Obi-Wan accepted that everything passed away, in time.

But as Anakin’s friend, Obi-Wan had always hoped that he, not Anakin, would be the one to pass away first. A thought unbecoming a Jedi, but there it was, as true as the Force itself – he simply hadn’t ever wanted to consider living in a universe that didn’t contain Anakin Skywalker. Facing the idea that he might have to was... daunting, to say the least.

“You should just tell me,” Obi-Wan said, forcing his words to come out evenly. “It’s always better to get these things over with quickly.”

“I don’t…” Luke began and, suddenly, he stopped talking, his attention turning to the door.

And then, Obi-Wan could hear someone running towards them. So, Luke _was_ Force-sensitive, after all.

Moments later, a woman all in white appeared in the doorway, brown hair twisted up in an impractical Naboo-style wrap. She was holding up a blaster, and though she seemed slightly out of breath, she had a sure grip on her weapon.

She scanned the room, but then, when she spotted Obi-Wan, she let out a soft sound of surprise, her blaster falling to her side.

“General Kenobi?” she asked, her voice a reverent whisper. "Is that really you?"

What the blazes had he gotten himself into this time?


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia Organa meets General Kenobi.

He looked just like the holo that father had shown her.

 _‘This was taken… oh, nearly twenty years ago, but I imagine you’ll be able to recognize him.’_

Leia had committed that image to her memory, just as she’d memorized what little her father had been willing to tell her about General Kenobi.

 _Is that really him?_

“For almost two years now, yes,” General Kenobi said, with a charmingly wry smile. “But Obi-Wan is still more comfortable for me to hear.”

“Obi-Wan,” Leia said, smiling back at him. Quickly, she put her blaster in its holster and stretched out her hand toward… toward Obi-Wan. “My name is Leia Organa.”

“Any relation to Senator Bail Organa?” Obi-Wan asked, taking her hand in his.

“He was my father,” Leia said, only belatedly remembering Luke, who was standing behind Obi-Wan and raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “My adoptive father.”

“It’s good that he did finally adopt,” Obi-Wan said kindly, letting go of her hand after a quick, comforting squeeze. “And I am sorry for your loss. He was often a friend to the Jedi.”

“Thank you,” Leia said. He was as gracious as she had always imagined.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Luke said, leaning against the wall and smirking at her. “Didn’t want to see what the place looked like.”

“I changed my mind,” Leia said, resting a hand on her hip. “And what were you calling me about, anyway? General Kenobi isn’t a danger.”

“I didn’t know it was him,” Luke said, annoyed. “There was something that was draining me, making me weak.”

“I experienced something similar,” Obi-Wan said. “Just before I was brought here. And while we’re on the topic – are we currently on Coruscant?”

“We are,” Leia said. Clearly, there was something of a mystery going on. Which was only to be expected when the dead came back to life. “Where were you?”

“A planet called Hargoeth, on the Outer Rim,” Obi-Wan said. Leia couldn't ever remember hearing the name mentioned. “Well, if we _are_ on Coruscant, I’d best get to the Council and inform them of what appears to have happened.”

“The Council?” Leia asked, confused.

“You mean the Jedi Council, don’t you?” Luke asked, a second later.

“Yes, the Jedi Council,” Obi-Wan said.

“Oh,” Leia said. “That could be a problem.”

“A problem?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Could be, yeah,” Luke said. “I should probably tell you some of those things that you aren’t going to want to know.”

“Just what _does_ he know?” Leia asked. “And… why doesn’t he know anything?”

“I think that he’s from the past and, well, he knows… he knows that Bail Organa adopted a daughter,” Luke said.

“From the past?” Leia muttered to herself.

This whole Jedi thing of Luke’s just got more and more bizarre as time went on. She kept thinking that she’d figured it out, and then something like this happened.

“I’m _really_ not going to like this, am I?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Probably not,” Luke said. “And the worst part is that, well, that we don’t know it all.”

“The Empire wasn’t exactly an environment that valued the free exchange of information,” Leia said dryly.

“The Empire?” Obi-Wan asked.

“The Republic fell,” Leia said, hoping that getting it over with quickly would help. “Well, it was pushed, really. It happened near the end of the First Clone War.”

Leia glanced over at Luke, who shrugged helplessly. Right, she was the politician, she got to give the bad news.

 _Thank you so much, Luke._

“Palpatine, who was the Supreme Chancellor at the time, declared himself the ruler of the first Galactic Empire,” Leia said, shooting Luke a glare. He looked over at Obi-Wan, then back at her, and wised up enough to cross the room to stand at Leia’s side.

“Sometimes, in order to save a thing, one must be willing to compromise that thing,” Luke said, his distaste for the words clear. “That’s the first thing every child used to learn about how the Empire was formed. He was saving us from division, from being destroyed by separatists.”

“While I have never trusted Chancellor Palpatine,” Obi-Wan said. “It is still a great leap to say that he would destroy democracy itself.”

“It happened,” Leia said, tightly. “And, naturally, the Jedi didn’t like it. There are two versions of what happened next, the Empire’s version and the Rebellion’s.”

“The Emperor said that the Jedi betrayed him, attempted to assassinate him,” Luke said.

“The Rebellion always knew that the Jedi were merely trying to _arrest_ Palpatine, get him out of power before it was too late,” Leia said. “The Emperor knew that the Jedi were his only true threat, so he…”

“What?”

“The Jedi were declared traitors to the Empire,” Leia said. “They were killed.”

“The Temple is still standing, even today, but no one has lived in it for over twenty years,” Luke said.

Obi-Wan nodded, looking away from them.

“I’m sorry,” Luke added, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s shoulder with his right hand, the prosthetic one. “It has to be worse than what you were expecting.”

“Was I the only Jedi to have survived?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Master Yoda did, but he passed away just over a year ago,” Luke said. “I’m the only living Jedi that I know of, at the moment. Well, until you arrived.”

“And I don’t count for much of one, right now,” Obi-Wan said softly. He walked towards the window, shaking off Luke’s hand.

“Obi-Wan…” Luke said, his hand dropping to his side. Leia moved closer to Luke, slipping her hand into his. His hand closed around hers gratefully.

“I wonder why this place feels so familiar,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out to touch one of the horizontal separators of the window.

“Perhaps you knew the original occupant,” Leia said. “Or it could just be that all these apartments look the same, after a while.”

“Possibly,” Obi-Wan said.

“It’s not all bad news,” Luke said. “The Emperor’s dead, now, and a new Republic is being formed from the ashes of the Empire. And the Jedi will return, I promise you that.”

“You’re a kind boy,” Obi-Wan said, turning around and leaning against the window, arms crossed in front of his chest. “But don’t feel as though you need to comfort me. The ones that we lose are always with us, through the Force.”

“And you really believe that?” Leia asked. A flash of pain crossed Obi-Wan’s face, but it was hidden almost immediately.

“It’s the truth,” Obi-Wan said, his expression serene once again. “Belief doesn’t enter into it. It will remain true even if, on occasion, I doubt it.”

“It must be nice, having that kind of certainty,” Leia said.

“I’m sure that Luke…” Obi-Wan trailed off, his gaze flitting over Luke. “Did you have a last name, young Luke?”

Leia glanced over at Luke, who looked away from both of them, uncertainty practically vibrating off of him.

“It can’t be that bad,” Obi-Wan said.

"My last name is…” Luke let out an unsteady breath and then looked straight at Obi-Wan. “I’m Luke Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker was my father.”


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan comes to a perfectly logical conclusion... unfortunately, it's one based on a false premise.

Obi-Wan stared at Luke for a moment, taking in this new information.

So, he was Force-blind, in the future, standing across from Anakin Skywalker’s son and Bail Organa’s daughter. Oh, and the Republic had fallen and the Jedi had been murdered.

There really was only one possibility, when he put it all together.

“You’re lying,” Obi-Wan said calmly, his hand resting on his lightsaber.

“It’s the truth,” the boy said earnestly. They’d picked a good actor – and now Obi-Wan knew why he looked so much like Anakin. They’d wanted to be convincing.

“Whatever you hope to gain by this trick, it will not make up for the price that you will pay,” Obi-Wan said, focusing on the moment. Even without the Force, Obi-Wan could watch the pair, and try to anticipate them. “Though Jedi do not deal in revenge, we do not take kidnapping lightly.

“Kidnapping?” the girl asked. “Obi-Wan, we don’t know what’s happening either. We’re not lying to you!”

“You are trying to make me doubt Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, forcing himself to relax his grip on his lightsaber. “I assure you that I know him far too well for that to happen.”

“I don’t understand,” the boy said, taking a step towards Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan stepped to the side, closer to the door, though he suspected that there were enough guards nearby that it would be foolish to try to escape before Anakin arrived. And it would help if he could unearth just what these people wanted. Anakin wasn’t very good at interrogation, though he’d always been a natural at intimidation. "I wasn't trying-"

“Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi Knight,” Obi-Wan said, cutting the boy off. “He’ll have a child the day that the Hutts decide to fund charities.”

“So, what, he broke the rules when he had Luke?” the girl asked, tilting her chin up. “That seems like him to me.”

“And I suppose you knew the Anakin of this time,” Obi-Wan said, dismissively. “Before he was killed in that war of yours.”

“He didn’t die in the wars,” the boy said, and though he spoke softly, each word was as distinct and cutting as a lightsaber slice. “I didn’t want to tell you this right away, not until I was sure that you’d adjusted to the rest, but maybe it’ll make you see some sense. The truth is that Anakin Skywalker fell to the dark side of the Force.”

“And if I didn’t believe the rest, what makes you imagine that I would believe that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Because it’s the truth and that’s the only thing that I can give you,” the boy said. Obi-Wan glanced over at the girl, who had her hand on her blaster. In case he didn’t buy their story and tried to fight his way out, he supposed. But they hadn’t attacked yet and he wouldn’t attack them first.

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to play the apprentice and to practice patience. Anakin would be along soon enough, so the more information Obi-Wan collected before then, the better.

“Who was your mother?” Obi-Wan asked.

The boy turned away, lacking a ready answer. Now, that _was_ odd. Obi-Wan would have guessed that they’d have prepared better than that.

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and they never told me.”

Perhaps they truly hadn’t been able to think of anyone appropriate, though Obi-Wan himself could come up with a few likely names off the top of his head, starting with Anakin’s long-term infatuation, Senator Amidala.

“He doesn’t have to explain himself to you,” the girl said, appearing to be instinctively defensive of the boy. Perhaps they were lovers, and that was why she’d explained her presence here via the rather ridiculous excuse of ‘adoption’. “He’s only trying to help.”

Obi-Wan nodded, removing his hand from his lightsaber. Confrontation hadn’t gotten him very far at all. Perhaps it was time to change tactics.

“I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan said. “But I will allow for the possibility that _you_ believe what you’re saying.”

It was always possible that Dooku had uncovered or created some new kind of mental manipulation, a more powerful form of suggestion. These two might be nothing more than innocent dupes.

Their names might even really be Luke and Leia.

“That’s… generous of you,” the girl said, her expression implying that she thought just the opposite.

Obi-Wan leaned back against the wall, reaching out to touch the window again – it was much stronger than most, heavily reinforced. He probably wouldn’t be able to escape that way, if he needed to.

What he needed was a Plan B, in case Anakin took longer than expected getting here. Anakin was known to take detours on occasion. And Obi-Wan couldn’t come up with an estimated time for Anakin’s arrival, not with the little he knew about their situation.

He glanced over, watching the pair of them whispering fiercely to each other. Had Dooku, or whoever was behind this, really thought that he would believe this trick? Perhaps he was just meant to be the bait in some trap for Anakin and this was Dooku's way of having fun with him until Anakin arrived.

Obi-Wan let out a calming breath, making an attempt to find his center. It was... considerably harder to concentrate without the Force.

In the end, it didn’t matter whether or not this was a trap.

Anakin would act the same, regardless. It was part of Anakin’s charm, part of what captured the imaginations of all those younglings across the universe.

Anakin was allowed to be reckless because he was also, in the end, almost unbelievably reliable.

And Obi-Wan _knew_ Anakin, better than he’d ever known anyone in his life.

He knew that wherever he was, _whenever_ he was, Anakin would find him.

It was one of their personal jokes, how often they had to go looking for each other, how often they had to rescue each other. Obi-Wan had to admit that if someone were to get lost, they could have no more dedicated searcher than Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin would find him.

He always did.


	6. Gleaming Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke had often wished that he could have spent more time with Ben. This isn't what he'd had in mind.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man who’d taught Luke about ‘a certain point of view’. Obi-Wan was so damn certain that he knew the truth about who Anakin Skywalker really was.

Maybe that’s why he spent twenty years alone on Tatooine after Anakin turned, because he’d been so very wrong. If old Ben ever decided to show up again, which would be helpful right about now, Luke would have to ask him.

“So, what do we do?” Leia asked.

“I don’t know,” Luke said.

“He really has faith in his friend,” Leia said softly.

And now that Luke thought about it, Ben never had seemed to blame Anakin for anything. He’d said that Vader had been seduced by the dark side, that he’d been betrayed and murdered by the evil inside himself. When talking about Anakin Skywalker, even after Luke had known the truth, Ben had been insistent that Anakin had been a good man.

When Luke had seen them, after Anakin’s death, Ben and Yoda had been standing right next to his father. As if he had never been Darth Vader, as if he’d never turned.

More and more, Luke wanted to know just what had happened all those years ago. What made Ben so willing to forgive? And how _had_ Anakin become Darth Vader?

Luke stepped toward Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s gaze snapped up to lock onto Luke’s, and his eyes were calm and certain.

“Why can’t Jedi have children?” Luke asked.

“Attachment is… discouraged,” Obi-Wan said, after a moment. “Affection and love can blind us from seeing the will of the Force.”

“The way your affection is blinding you,” Leia said sharply.

Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“It’s possible,” Obi-Wan said. “But as I’ve known Anakin for over twelve years and the two of you for under an hour, I suspect that placing my faith in Anakin is the wiser course to take.”

“I can understand why you might not trust us,” Luke said, ignoring Leia’s indignant snort. “It’s a lot to expect anyone to believe. But we can prove it.”

“How?” Obi-Wan asked.

“We can take you to the Temple,” Luke said. “You can see for yourself. I haven’t had a chance to do anything with it yet and… the Empire never touched it after the end of the Second Clone War.”

“They just razed it and then left it there, as an example,” Leia said. “When I became a Senator, I was required to walk through the building, to see what the Empire does to traitors.”

“You’re a politician?” Obi-Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“All my life,” Leia said. “I always wanted to make a difference. Try to, anyway.”

Obi-Wan studied Leia thoughtfully, his hand reached up to pull at his beard. Luke still hadn’t fully adjusted that there was color in this Obi-Wan’s hair. And Obi-Wan looked incredibly _young_ , though, objectively, Luke would place him around Han’s age.

All at once, Obi-Wan pushed away from the wall, his expansive cloak swirling a little from the force of his movement. “Right, let’s see this Temple of yours.”

“Han’s waiting out by the central landing port,” Leia said, as they walked out of the room, Obi-Wan a few paces behind them. “I told him that I’d just be a few minutes, even if I had to drag you out by your hair.”

“Han’s here?” Luke asked, glancing back every so often at Obi-Wan, who didn’t seem to be paying any attention at all to their conversation. He was probably trying to decide if they were talking in code. “I thought he wanted to look up some old contacts in the lower city.”

“He can do that any time,” Leia said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Yeah, any time you’re willing to release that tractor beam you’ve got locked on him,” Luke teased, enjoying Leia’s subtle blush. “Have you ever thought of just chaining him to the _Falcon?_ ”

They turned the corner and the _Falcon_ was dead ahead. Threepio was standing on the ramp, looking a little dingy. Due for an oil bath, Luke suspected.

“Master Luke, it’s good to see you!” Threepio said, with his customary enthusiasm.

“It’s good to-“

“That’s impossible,” Obi-Wan said abruptly. Luke turned and saw Obi-Wan looking more shaken than he’d been at any point previous.

“What is it?” Leia asked, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s arm.

“C-3PO,” Obi-Wan said, faintly. Threepio opened his mouth, but Obi-Wan beat him to it. “Human-cyborg relations.”

“You’ve met him before?” Luke asked.

“On many occasions,” Obi-Wan said, looking slightly pale. “I’m curious – is there another droid around? An astromech, perhaps?”

“You mean Artoo,” Luke said. Well, it made sense that Obi-Wan had _known_ Artoo, since Artoo had known just how to find him. “If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to be a Jedi.”

"R2-D2," Obi-Wan confirmed. "Anakin has been borrowing him from a friend." Luke reached for Obi-Wan’s right arm, Leia having firmly wrapped her hand around Obi-Wan’s left arm. And the fact that Obi-Wan hadn’t pushed them away spoke volumes.

“I don’t understand what’s going on at all,” Threepio said mournfully. “Master Luke, I’ve never seen this man before in my life.”

“The galaxy is full of protocol droids,” Leia said to Obi-Wan.

“Not like that one,” Obi-Wan said, distantly. “In all my travels, I have never encountered another droid with C-3PO’s rather unique mannerisms and his peculiar brand of neurotic fatalism."

“That definitely sounds like Threepio," Luke said.

“If, by some horrible chance, it turns out that you are telling me the truth, young Luke,” Obi-Wan said, his gaze still fixed on Threepio. “Then I believe I know who your mother was.”

“Oh, I do wish that someone would explain all this to me,” Threepio said, his voice easily carrying over… well, everything else, including the speeder traffic.

“You do? What's her name?” Leia asked, apparently forgetting that she hadn’t been forthcoming with the ‘sibling’ card earlier. But Obi-Wan seemed to be too distracted to notice that she cared more than she should about who Luke’s mother was.

“Senator Amidala,” Obi-Wan said, looking like he wanted to sit down. Luke wondered if they should maybe get him into the ship before he collapsed. “She and Anakin met as children and she’s always been fond of him.”

“Amidala,” Luke said, but the word didn’t resonate at all.

“Anakin calls her Padmé,” Obi-Wan said softly, and… that name meant something to Luke, touched a tender place inside that he hadn’t known about before.

“Padmé,” Leia said, and her voice was full of the same wonder that Luke felt. They’d talked it all out, a few months ago, so Luke knew that this was as much a revelation for her as it was for him – Bail Organa had always told her that her birth mother’s name was too dangerous for her to know.

She’d told him that when she found out that Vader was her father, she’d finally understood just _why_ that was so.

And by the time the danger had passed, no one that Leia had spoken to had known the truth. It was another question that Luke would have loved to ask his father or Ben about, but they hadn’t appeared to him since the celebration on Endor and he was starting to think that there was a good chance that he’d never see them again.

Then, Luke felt Obi-Wan shiver against him, and he realized that all this _wasn’t_ a reaction to seeing Threepio, after all.

It was happening again.


	7. The Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Anakin is possessive.

One moment, Anakin was leaping across still water, trying to reach Obi-Wan…

The next, he was landing hard on the sun-warm surface of a walkway.

He was on Coruscant – he knew it immediately, could feel it. No place in the galaxy felt as tight and frantic as Coruscant, the world-city that never paused for breath.

 _How the blazes…_

Only one thing hadn’t changed – Obi-Wan was still near and still needed him. And that was the only thing that mattered.

The heat of awareness crystalized around Anakin and he took in the necessary details in less than a second – two people, a light-haired man and a dark-haired woman, both armed, were holding Obi-Wan hostage. Anakin could hear speeders and ships buzzing all around and he could feel the bulk of a transport nearby. Most importantly, he couldn’t _feel_ Obi-Wan.

“Let him go,” Anakin said, low and dark. Something was trying to catch his attention, break his concentration, and Anakin pushed it aside, seeing only Obi-Wan’s limp form.

The man started to say something, but he fell silent when Anakin shifted into a ready position, lightsaber held high. The man looked over at the woman, who was blatantly staring at Anakin with something akin to fascination.

“I won’t ask again,” Anakin said, shaking off the discomfort that the woman’s look gave him. After they placed Obi-Wan on the ground, he gestured for them to move away. If they used this opportunity to escape, it still wouldn’t matter, in the end. They would be dealt with, if not this way, then another.

When they were far enough away from Obi-Wan, Anakin moved forward and knelt at Obi-Wan’s side. He’d know if they tried to attack and he needed to focus on what they’d done to Obi-Wan.

He touched his free hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, realizing with a sigh of relief that Obi-Wan wasn’t still unconscious.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, his eyelashes fluttering as he tried and failed to open his eyes. Whatever they’d done had left Obi-Wan as weak as a Jeyferi calfling.

“Shh, don’t try to move,” Anakin said soothingly. He could feel Obi-Wan in the same way that he could feel anyone, but the power of Obi-Wan’s presence was missing. “Oh, Master, what _have_ they done to you?”

“Not them,” Obi-Wan said, managing to open his eyes this time, though they were dark with pain. “And… look to your left.”

“What?” Anakin asked, even as he followed Obi-Wan’s instruction.

Threepio, gleaming in the afternoon sun, was standing on a ship’s ramp. The woman and man were still there and they’d been joined by another man.

How had they grabbed _Threepio_? And why?

“What’s this all about?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan just shook his head and then started to lever himself up from the floor. Anakin sighed and then clipped his lightsaber to his belt so that he could slide his arm around Obi-Wan and help him up. “You could at least give me a hint.”

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Obi-Wan said, only leaning slightly into Anakin’s hold. Eventually, Obi-Wan would stop being so blasted independent and just let Anakin help him.

“I’d like to know, too,” said the second man, blustery and annoyed. “Whatever it was, it pulled a hell of a lot of power from _my_ engines and that isn’t something that I forgive easy.”

“Under the circumstances, I think that you should be the one making the explanations,” Anakin said, more than a little annoyed himself. “Let's start with what you did to Master Kenobi and make a detour at how you got your hands on _my_ droid.”

The man appeared to have been left speechless by something, which Anakin was grateful for.

“Is… is he talking about me? Oh, I’m so confused,” Threepio said despairingly. Blast, not only had the space rats stolen Anakin’s droid, but they'd also clearly wiped Threepio’s mind.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, immediately drawing Anakin’s attention with that familiar exasperated-exhausted version of his name that meant ‘ _I know that you meant to sound more like a Jedi there, so why don’t you try again?_ ’.

“I know,” Anakin said softly, rubbing Obi-Wan’s back. He’d let this Threepio thing slide, for the moment. After all, he could always reverse the wipe by activating Threepio's hidden back-up. Droids were easy to fix. It was people that were complicated. “You really aren’t well enough to lecture.”

“ _That_ is something that I will be well enough to do on my deathbed,” Obi-Wan said, stiffening up slightly but not pulling away. “And you’ll probably still need to hear them, even then.”

“I’m sure I will, Master,” Anakin said, pleased to have his sincerity surprise a small smile out of Obi-Wan, even if the beard hid most of the effect. “What’s the subject for today?”

“Just… open yourself to the Force and tell me what you feel,” Obi-Wan said, as if that weren’t the aspect of Jedi training that Anakin had had the most trouble with.

At least Obi-Wan hadn’t actually used the _word_ ‘meditate’. Though if Obi-Wan had truly been cut off from the Force, then he needed Anakin now more than he ever had before. And _that_ was a pleasant thought.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, closing his eyes. “You’re standing next to me, but something’s muting you. I can feel…” For the first time since he’d arrived in this place, Anakin opened his focus to include more than Obi-Wan, and he was shocked to realize that two of the people standing over on that ship’s ramp had incredibly strong presences. “I feel power.”

He opened his eyes, letting himself really look at the people in front of him.

First, and least important, there was the loud man that he hadn’t seen at first. He was easy to categorize – he was a common and scruffy space pirate. Anakin had known dozens of his kind, before ever leaving Tatooine. Anakin did find himself slightly disturbed by the odd look the man was directing at Obi-Wan.

There was the woman, long brown hair twisted up in a Tourgi-style bun. She was wearing all white, and her costume had the feel of being a uniform of some kind. She was powerful, but untrained. He’d noticed before that she had a blaster, but now he saw that the handle was worn with use. A fighter, then, and she likely surprised people with her skill.

Then there was the lightshow. He was strong, he was trained, and he wore a lightsaber on his belt. A Jedi or a man who’d killed one. If they _did_ have to fight their way out of here, that was the one to take out first.

“Wait a moment, that name…” Threepio said, sounding more thoughtful than Anakin had ever heard him sound before. “Master Luke, this 'Master Kenobi' _must_ be related to Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

 _Master Luke?_

“No, it _is_ Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the woman said.

“I thought he was dead,” the pirate muttered and, though his words were quiet, they drew Anakin’s attention immediately.

“If you meant to kill him, you failed,” Anakin said.

“No, he means that, in this time, I’m dead,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin took a moment to process that.

“Master, you’re delusional,” Anakin said. “Since we appear to be on Coruscant, and I _would_ like an explanation for that at some point, we should take you to the healers at the Temple.”

“That’s actually where we were headed, before you arrived,” Obi-Wan said. “Luke and Leia offered to take me there.”

“Wait, you know these people?” Anakin asked.

“Recent acquaintances,” Obi-Wan demurred. “I met Luke and Leia about an hour ago, and, though I have not yet been formally  introduced to the third member of their party, I believe that his name is Han.”

“Right, I’m Han. Han Solo,” the blustery man said. “And I’m just as in the dark as you are, buddy.”

“Which is why we were going to the Temple in the first place,” said Master Luke, the droid thief. “We wanted to… show something to Obi-Wan to prove to him that he _is_ in the future.” In all of his travels, this was very possibly the most insane story that Anakin had heard.

Anakin eyed the waiting ship skeptically. It was haphazard, clearly second-rate, most likely used for smuggling. Such ships tended to be fast, but unreliable. They were always breaking down. And they trapped in unpleasant smells – Anakin had yet to run across one that actually had a decent air recirculation system.

“You expect me to get in that junk heap?” Anakin asked, after a long moment.

“The _Falcon_ isn’t junk!” Solo protested. Anakin decided to practice a measure of Jedi restraint and didn’t tell the man that Anakin could probably build a better ship out of this one’s spare parts.

 

“I know what she looks like, but she’s a fast ship,” Leia said. She shifted uncomfortably when Anakin looked at her, but not the way that most women did. There was something about her, about the way she carried her power. It felt familiar.

“Well, fast enough,” Luke said, grinning teasingly at Solo, who glared back.

“Oh, I do wish that someone would explain all this to me,” Threepio said. “It's all very irregular, this business of people popping out of thin air.”

“Is Artoo with you?” Anakin asked, though he tried to push away his fears. “He’s pretty good at explaining things.”

“Why, no, sir, he isn’t here. He’s doing something complicated with a Wookiee,” Threepio said. “Frankly, I didn’t _want_ to know more.”

“I can understand why,” Anakin said, a relieved smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The Wookiees were great friends of the Jedi and Artoo had more built-in safeguards than any other droid in the galaxy. Padmé was safe, then, even if he couldn't sense her.

Anakin turned his attention back to Luke, the only person who actually seemed to know even a little of what was going on.

“Why were you taking him to the Temple?” Anakin asked, outright ignoring Obi-Wan’s half-hearted complaints about preferring to be asked himself and about pushy Knights who believed their own newscasts.

“Because he didn’t believe me about something and I wanted to show him proof,” Luke said.

“Can you be just a little more specific?” Anakin asked, fingers tightening on Obi-Wan's waist.

“You don’t want to know,” Obi-Wan said, straightening up and attempting to brush off Anakin’s hand. Anakin reluctantly released his hold, moving his hand to rest on his lightsaber.

“That’s probably true,” Luke admitted. “It’s not… good news.”

“Though I’d like to mention, in advance, that I still don’t believe him,” Obi-Wan said.

“Not in the slightest,” Leia said. “He’s been very firm about not believing us.”

“Why _wouldn’t_ he believe Luke?” Solo asked. “Luke’s an honest guy, he’ll give it to you straight.”

“Oh, and it makes sense that he wouldn’t believe me?” Leia said.

“That’s not what I meant,” Solo protested.

“Look, I don’t care about your petty little games,” Anakin said, though Leia’s offended look did give him an odd feeling. “I just want someone to explain things. Why are we here? What did you do to Master Kenobi?”

“We didn’t do _anything_ to him,” Leia said fiercely.

“Well,” Luke said. He hesitated for a moment when Anakin glared at him. “I _was_ concentrating on my... someone important to me. And Obi-Wan knew that person.”

“You think a lot, kid,” Solo said. “You’ve never made anybody appear out of nothing before.”

“I’ve never been in a place like that before,” Luke said. “It was… completely focused on one thought, one idea. All this normally loose energy was dedicated to keeping a single memory alive.”

“Maybe we should go back there,” Anakin suggested.

Luke winced. “I think that… Obi-Wan’s appearance may have sucked it dry.”

Solo paled. “Do you think… will the _Falcon_ still fly?”

“Of course,” Anakin said. “Even if all this is true and my appearance took most of the available power from your engines, machines and the Force don’t really get along. All you’ll have to do is refuel.”

He took another long look at the motley threesome. Leia returned his stare coolly, Luke was _smiling_ , and Solo still looked worried about his ship. They didn’t _look_ like Sith Lords or Separatists.

So, he would try to be patient and diplomatic, as Obi-Wan said he should be, by this stage in his Knighthood.

Diplomatic, he could do, but patience was not his gift.

Of course, it didn’t help that Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly good at it either.

“The Temple,” Obi-Wan prompted. Anakin hid his smile – there was his proof, right there. Obi-Wan was _not_ a man who was talented at sitting and waiting, no matter what he tried to tell Anakin.

“If going there means that someone will actually tell me something, I’ll vote in favor,” Anakin said. He took a step towards Luke, giving him the stare that Obi-Wan told him was far too forbidding for a Jedi to use. Luke blinked, losing his smile. Anakin smirked at him, adding, “Oh, by the way, I _am_ going to want my droid back.”


	8. Definitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan doesn't quite have the words to explain just what Anakin is to him.

“He’s always in _such_ a hurry,” Obi-Wan muttered, as Anakin stalked past the group on the ramp on his way into the ship. Obi-Wan walked up the ramp more slowly, still feeling a bit like he’d been blasted by a destroyer droid. Anakin, of course, seemed perfectly fine. That was just like him, to be unaffected by things that left other men, other Jedi, lying about in agony. And then, whenever something _did_ affect Anakin, he seemed to feel the pain more keenly than any other creature in the galaxy.

“He’s going right for the engines! How can he even know where they are?” Han asked, not waiting for an answer before hurrying off after Anakin. Pity, Obi-Wan could have reassured him that Anakin always knew what he was doing, at least when it came to machines.

“And _that_ is Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, firmly. “Arrogant, emotional, and more than a little impulsive, but certainly no Sith.”

“No what?” Luke said, and both Luke and Leia stopped staring into the ship in favor of looking at Obi-Wan with nearly identical expressions of confusion.

“Sith,” Obi-Wan repeated. “Someone who freely uses the dark side of the Force.”

“It’s not a word that registers in the vocabularies of any of the languages that I know. And I am fluent in over six million forms of communication,” Threepio said, disapprovingly, reminding Obi-Wan that it was there. Obi-Wan sharply signaled for Threepio to get into the ship, sure that he didn’t want the talkative droid to hear the rest of this conversation. Threepio glanced over at Luke before obeying.

“That’s simply impossible,” Obi-Wan said, waiting until Threepio was fully out of range before continuing. “A thousand years of learning can’t just… vanish over the course of a single generation.”

“Obi-Wan, it’s fairly obvious that you aren’t prepared to hear any of this,” Leia said, sneaking a glance into the ship. “And I wish that we had better news…”

“But the truth is that the Emperor was extremely powerful,” Luke said. “And he despised the Jedi, though I’m guessing it’s not really because they tried to assassinate him.”

“I do doubt that,” Obi-Wan said. Though he knew that Master Windu and some of the others were concerned with the length of Palpatine’s stay as Chancellor, he couldn’t imagine any Jedi stooping to the level of assassination. It was much easier to believe that a politician had lied. _That_ happened every day. “What am I going to find at this Temple of yours, young Luke?”

“Not much,” Luke said, shrugging. “When I first came to Coruscant, I went to there to try to connect with the Jedi who came before me, but I only found reasons not to stay.”

“Such as?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I couldn’t begin to explain,” Luke said. “You’ll understand when we see it.”

“Well, you _are_ a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “That was very cryptic of you. Worthy of a Master, I daresay.”

Leia tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a snort of laughter, her nose wrinkling up in a charming manner. After a moment, Luke smiled, too, and if he looked for it, Obi-Wan could see a shadow of Anakin there.

But that was just the power of suggestion – if he looked carefully enough, he could also see Anakin in _Leia’s_ face, too. It didn’t mean anything, if Luke looked a little like Anakin when he smiled.

“You’re a Master, then?” Leia asked. Her mouth twisted and then she continued, sounding a touch distasteful, “And… Anakin Skywalker… is your student.”

“Actually, no, not anymore,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s…”

“What?” Luke asked, leaning forward.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure,” Obi-Wan said. It was a question that he hadn’t thought about before. True, he’d known that it was unspeakably rare for Master and Padawan to stay together after the latter had been Knighted, but there had never been a question of doing anything else. None of the other Masters had ever suggested splitting them up, and Anakin himself, though he spoke longingly of the rank of Master, never seemed to show any desire to take a Padawan learner.

The word ‘friend’ came to mind and yet, even that word, dangerous and deep as it felt at the moment, seemed inadequate. Obi-Wan had never known his blood family, only the Order, but he’d seen the loyalty that others felt to their kin, something like the bond between Master and Padawan, yet with an… equality that would not belong in the Order.

The Force was his life, the Order was his family.

As a child, Obi-Wan had never felt the stab of longing that Anakin had once haltingly told him was ‘homesickness’. He’d never wanted to belong anywhere but the Order, never wanted to be anything except a Jedi.

And then, Anakin had come into his life. At first, the child had been still and quiet, never putting a foot out of place. Then, one day, Anakin had broken something. Some small, meaningless thing, but he’d cried over it. Later that day, he’d fixed it, shyly offering it to Obi-Wan to inspect for flaws.

Obi-Wan couldn’t remember what the thing had been, but he could remember Anakin’s smile, the first one that he’d given to Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan alone.

Obi-Wan could remember the pure stab of joy that he’d felt and how he’d pushed it away. Over the years, he’d collected many of those moments, putting them into a secret place in his heart where even he rarely dared to look. He’d not felt like a friend in those moments, nor as the mentor that he should be, but as a… the best word that he could think of was ‘brother’, kin.

But even that didn’t feel strong enough.

Anakin was _Anakin_ , a whirlwind of pure emotion and light.

Obi-Wan glanced toward the ship, the one that they’d called the _Falcon_ , wishing that he could feel Anakin inside. “Anakin is… a good friend.”

“That’s what you told me,” Luke said. “When I asked you about my father, that’s what you told me.”

“And you honestly believed that I could ever entertain the thought that he…” Obi-Wan trailed off.

“It’s a little easier to understand why you won’t,” Leia said and it felt oddly like she was trying to… barter for peace. “He’s not what I would have expected.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “He never is.”


	9. Recalibration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han finds out a little more about the Force, and fate has a small chuckle at his expense.

Han tripped over the voluminous fabric of a cloak, landing on the floor with a grunt of pain and an angry curse.

“Do you have a spare accelerator cable?” the kid asked, without looking up from what he was doing with the engine. His hands were already starting to look grimy.

“No,” Han snapped, getting up with a wince. “Call me crazy, but I didn’t think that I would need one for a simple intraplanetary hop.”

“Hmm,” the kid said, licking a finger and pressing it against a wire before Han could do anything to stop him. The wire sparked, but the kid didn’t so much as jump. “Well, your primary motivator is still good, so I can probably cannibalize from a non-essential system.”

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just go around putting your hands all over other people’s engines,” Han said.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’.” He looked up then, and he looked dangerous again, even with an oil stain rubbed onto his forehead. “My name is Anakin, Ana-“

The kid cut off suddenly, looking past Han. He smiled for just a moment, looking even younger than Han had him pegged as.

“Captain Solo!”

Han quickly turned around, seeing Threepio standing just behind him. “Hey, don’t sneak up on a guy like that. Can’t you see that I’m busy here?”

“Well, I’m sure that I’m sorry, sir,” Threepio said. “Although, I do feel as though I should mention that you didn’t _look_ terribly busy.”

“I was,” Han said, motioning Threepio away. “I was busy telling _Anakin_ to stay the hell away from my engines.”

“I suppose that I could go wait somewhere else,” Threepio said. “Where I can be alone and unwanted.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go do that,” Han said, turning back around. Anakin was staring at him now, with a long, considering stare that was just about every kind of uncomfortable on record.

“Don’t worry, Threepio,” Anakin said, not taking his gaze off of Han. “Soon enough, you’ll be back among people who appreciate you.”

“Well, that _would_ be nice,” Threepio said, his voice fading as he walked away. “I only want to be needed, to be a useful member of society….”

“You’re as bad as Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, pushing his hair back and leaving another small blotch of engine grease on his forehead. “Droids may not be biological, but they _are_ real and they do have a sense of self. Treat one like trash, like a slave, you’re the one who loses out. If you respect them, they’ll work past their design limitations and protocols to help you.”

“Never really thought about it that way,” Han said. The kid wasn’t half-bad, really, now that he was acting like a real person instead of some creepy wizard. Sure, he might be scary as hell when he was confused or pissed off, but who wasn’t?

“Most people don’t,” Anakin said. “They just dismiss droids, like they’re background noise. Honestly, I think that says more about them than it does the droids.”

“Your friend does it, you said,” Han said.

“The Council may be under the delusion that my Master is the greatest Jedi that ever lived, but I know better,” Anakin said. “He can be as petty as anyone else. He’s… a wonderful Jedi, don’t get me wrong, but he spends too much time thinking about the Council’s wishes and not enough thinking about the Force. He hates politics, but he’s _good_ at them.” Anakin licked his lower lip, biting back a smile. “He’s good at most of the things that he doesn’t like.”

"Probably spends a lot of time doing them, then," Han said.

"He does," Anakin said. "The Council tells him to jump, he just asks where."

"You're not a fan?" Han asked.

"He's better than that," Anakin said. "He shouldn't let them have so much control over his life.  Obi-Wan _could_ be one of the greatest Jedi who ever lived, if he just stopped trusting the Council so much, stopping believing their views on what makes a Jedi great. But if he did, I suppose that he wouldn't be Obi-Wan anymore."

“So, that’s really Kenobi out there?” Han asked.

“The only one that I know,” Anakin said. “But that isn’t saying much.”

“It’s just that… he really did die,” Han said. “It kinda tore Luke up for a while. But the Kenobi that we knew… he was a lot older.”

“That’s the story that you told him, that we’re in the future?” Anakin asked.

“Hey, I haven’t been telling anybody anything,” Han said. “But if that’s what Luke and Leia are saying, I’d bet that it’s true.”

“Because they’re Force-sensitive,” Anakin said, as though that were the only possible reason.

“Because I _know_ them,” Han said. “Look, even if I’ve seen some crazy things over the last few years, I’m still not prepared to completely buy into that mystical energy stuff. When it comes down to it, I’d still rather trust a blaster than something that I can’t see or touch.”

Anakin didn’t say anything for a moment, reaching down and picking up his cloak, then draping it over his right arm, drawing Han’s attention to the fact that he wore a glove on that hand, just like Luke.

“I can’t really explain how it feels,” Anakin said, still staring down at his cloak. “Because I’ve always felt it.”

Han shrugged, not entirely sure if he wanted Anakin to give up or to explain. He’d never really thought about asking, because he never really was able to believe, not the way that Luke did.

“I can feel Luke and Leia, outside the ship,” Anakin said. “They’re worried about something and I can sense that they have an incredibly close mental connection. I can feel Obi-Wan, though nowhere near as strongly as I should be able to. I can feel this ship.”

Anakin reached out, placing his ungloved hand against the wall, spreading out his fingers. His eyes were closed now and he had a distant look on his face.

“I could fly her, without a moment’s study, because with just one touch, I can _know_ her, in a way that no one has since the people who originally built her,” Anakin said, opening his eyes. “Being a Jedi is about reaching out and letting yourself be part of something great and grand. I’ve only known one power that might be greater than that intuitive knowledge of the Force.”

“What’s that?” Han asked. The corners of Anakin’s mouth turned up and his eyes lightened.

“Love,” Anakin said. His smile faltered and he stepped back, wrapping his cloak around himself again. “Though, I should point out that the Order doesn’t agree with me on that particular point.”

“They’re wrong,” Han said. Anakin’s gaze flitted up to meet Han’s again, and Han shrugged. He might not know all that much about the Force, despite Luke’s dedication to it, but _this_ was something that he’d learned all too well over the past few years.

“Yes, they are,” Anakin said. He paused, getting that faraway expression again. “Obi-Wan’s coming inside now. We’d better go get your engine fixed.”

“Yeah, we can probably pull apart the recirculation system to get a make-shift part – won’t be needing that while we’re still in the atmosphere,” Han said. Anakin laughed softly, and even though Han didn’t know just what was so funny, he found himself chuckling, too. “C’mon, kid, I’ll show you where it is.”

“That… won’t be necessary,” Anakin said, breaking away and heading off in just the right direction. “But if you can keep up, I’ll let you help.”


	10. Tree of Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia discovers a little more than she wanted to know.

“Obi-Wan,” Leia said, reaching out to touch his sleeve. Luke almost turned back towards them, but seemed to pick up on her thought that she wanted to talk to Obi-Wan alone for a moment, and instead continued on into the ship.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I’m not entirely sure how to say this,” Leia said.

“Say what, exactly?” Obi-Wan said.

“I wasn’t expecting him to… care about anyone but himself. I guess I never really believed Luke, not in my heart.”

“Believed Luke about what?”

“That Vader could have ever been a good man,” Leia said.

“Vader?” Obi-Wan asked, sounding more than a little distasteful.

“That’s the name he takes. Well, it’s the name that I know him by,” Leia said. “But… I think that I want to know more because… he’s my father, too.”

“And why are you telling me this now?” Obi-Wan asked. Leia hesitantly looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of surprise or knowledge. She found nothing but kindness.

“I didn’t want to lie, not to you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to, the first time. I _do_ think of Bail Organa as my real father – he’s the man who raised me, the one who loved me, the one who taught everything that I needed to know about life and democracy.”

“So you and Luke are…”

“Twins,” Leia said, glancing away from Obi-Wan.“Will you tell me about Anakin Skywalker? And about my mother?”

“If that’s what you’d like,” Obi-Wan said.

“It is,” Leia said.

“You have her eyes and her hair, but your features are much more like Anakin’s,” Obi-Wan said, his voice softer, lower. He reached out then, his cool hand cupping the side of her face. Her gaze met his again, and his eyes looked darker now. “Your… brother is just the reverse. I suppose that I didn’t want to see that.”

“No?” Leia asked, standing very still.

“I think that you were right, Leia,” Obi-Wan said. “My affection for Anakin _has_ blinded me to many things, including how strongly he feels about your mother. When I truly consider just how much he tries to hide even those feelings that I do pick up on…”

“I’m sorry, that you found out like this,” Leia said.

“It’s not your fault, not anyone’s,” Obi-Wan said. His eyes were so much more complicated, when she was this close to him – she could see the darker ring of color around the edge of the pupil now and that there were tiny brown imperfections scattered in the shades of blue. His mouth was set in a careful line as he continued to study her features, and his hair had fallen forward slightly. His hand slid up from her jaw to trace the line of her cheekbone and she couldn’t stop herself from shivering. “I shall tell you anything that you’d like to know.”

“Thank you,” Leia said, pulling away from Obi-Wan’s touch. She reached up to brush some strands of hair behind her ears, feeling a little warm. “We should go. Into the ship.”

“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

“Fine. Good. Great,” Leia said, backing up a step. “I’m going to go find Luke. We’ll… talk later.”

“Whenever you’d like,” Obi-Wan said.

“Thank you,” Leia said again, her voice barely a whisper this time. She turned towards the ship, finally breaking eye contact with Obi-Wan, and hurried up the ramp.

Oh, she had a bad feeling about this.


	11. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke isn't a romantic hero. He doesn't mind.

What _was_ Leia talking to Obi-Wan about? Luke resisted the urge to look back with either eyes or mind. Leia probably had a good reason for wanting to be alone. Luke had no right to eavesdrop. Plus, he was pretty sure she was attuned enough to him that she’d sense him if he tried it.

“Ah, Master Luke! It _is_ good to see you.” Threepio was walking down the corridor, looking a little disturbed.

“What is it?” Luke asked, reaching out to touch the smooth metal of Threepio’s arm in an attempt to calm him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a technique that worked very well on droids. But it was better than nothing.

“I just wish that I knew what was happening,” Threepio said. “How _can_ Master Kenobi still be alive?”

“None of us really know what’s going on,” Luke said reassuringly. “All we really know is that they seem to be from the past.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Threepio protested.

“Neither have I, but that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible,” Luke said. “If they really are from the past, we have to believe that they’re here for a reason. And that’s why I’m helping them as much as I can.”

“Well, I do believe that the young man knows what he’s doing with that engine,” Threepio said. “So, we should be ready to go to… where is it that we’re going, Master Luke?”

“The old Jedi Temple,” Luke said.

“Oh, dear,” Threepio said. “I don’t imagine that seeing that will make them feel any better.”

“No, but it may help them believe that we’re telling the truth. It’s the only thing that I could think of,” Luke said.

“I can’t think of anything either,” Threepio said.

“That’s all right, Threepio,” Luke said. “You might as well go up and wait for us – I’ll go check on Han.”

“Very well, Master Luke,” Threepio said, heading off.

The idea that both Threepio and Artoo had known his father... well, it still hadn’t entirely sunk in. Luke had been surprised by Artoo’s determination and devotion when they’d first met – was it really just Artoo’s built-in personality?

He’d have to send a message to Chewie, ask him to bring Artoo back to Coruscant. Archiving seemed just a _little_ less important now.

And if by chance Artoo did remember Anakin, then that would bring up a whole new set of questions, like why Artoo had never mentioned that he’d worked with Luke’s father. He’d always thought that Artoo liked him. Or at least tolerated him. Though now that he thought about it, Artoo didn’t really listen to him as much as, say, Threepio did. On the other hand, he was always there when Luke needed him.

Great, now this was going to bother him all the way to the Temple.

At first, feeling Leia’s approach was a relief from the direction that his thoughts were taking, but she didn’t even stop to talk to him, hurrying right past him and toward the engines.

And she was thinking pretty loudly about Han.

“So, Leia’s your sister?” Obi-Wan said, startling Luke.

Leia’s focus had been so powerful that she’d completely overwhelmed Obi-Wan’s presence.

That was a little disturbing, actually.

“She told you that?” Luke asked, turning to face Obi-Wan.

“You know, she’s an odd girl,” Obi-Wan said, pulling at his beard. “At first, she wanted to know all about Anakin and Senator Amidala, and then she just… ran off into the ship. Very peculiar.”

“What did you say?” Luke asked. Obi-Wan gave him a blank look. Luke tried again. “What did you say to her just before she took off?”

“I can’t think of anything that I said that warranted her response,” Obi-Wan said.

“So, one minute she’s confiding in you, and the other, she’s running away, for no apparent reason?” Luke asked skeptically. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“It really doesn’t,” Obi-Wan said. “And what kind of name is _Vader_?”

“She told you that, too?” Luke asked.

“Anakin’s a much better name,” Obi-Wan said. “I can’t imagine why he would change it.”

“Maybe he didn’t want anyone to know who he used to be,” Luke said.

“People didn’t _know_?” Obi-Wan asked. “But Anakin’s famous.”

“He is?” Luke asked.

“Far too famous,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s not good for him at all, even if he _has_ gotten better at handling the politicians and publicity recently.”

“What’s he famous for?” Luke asked.

“He’s… well, he’s a bit of a war hero,” Obi-Wan said. “His face is everywhere. People really didn’t recognize him?”

“Well, there’s actually a good reason for that,” Luke said. And he realized that there really wasn’t an easy way to say, ‘ _Anakin is somehow going to become so badly injured that he’ll spend his life in a black suit_ ’. “He… wore a mask.”

“And people didn’t find that suspicious?” Obi-Wan asked, but he didn’t seem to need an answer. Which was nice, because Luke didn’t really have one. “Has the general population lowered in intelligence over the years?”

“Don’t ask me,” Luke muttered, but Obi-Wan wasn’t listening anymore.

“Oh, who am I trying to fool? The general population has never shown much signs of intelligence,” Obi-Wan said. He sighed, leaning back against the wall of the ship. “Kill the scholars, no wonder the whole galaxy falls apart. You know, I’m beginning to suspect that this is a very vivid dream. Perhaps a vision from the Force. There’s a first time for everything, after all. Perhaps I’m seeing one possible version of the future so that I might prevent it.”

He was looking over at Luke now, studying him. Luke shrugged. He… doubted Obi-Wan’s conclusions, to say the least.

“My own fears come to light, perhaps,” Obi-Wan continued. “So that I might overcome them and release them into the Force.”

“Because fear leads to the dark side,” Luke said.

“It can,” Obi-Wan said. “Fear often causes people to force a thing to stay the same, when it needs to change. Fear is a step towards hate. And it is not the way of the Force. All things pass away, in time.”

“You’re afraid of losing him?” Luke asked. It wasn't something that he'd thought about much, though it was obvious in retrospect, when he thought about the way Ben had talked about his father.

“Anakin has the potential to be the greatest Jedi who ever lived,” Obi-Wan said. “Losing him would be a tremendous blow to the Order.”

“That’s… not an answer,” Luke said.

“I don’t suppose that it is,” Obi-Wan said. “But even if this is some fever-dream, it is already far too much of one.”

“Because the Jedi are discouraged from attachments?” Luke asked.

“Something like that.” Obi-Wan gave Luke a wry smile. “So, which way is it to the engine, anyway?”


	12. To Talk of Many Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin finds out that knowing a thing is sometimes worse than imagining what it could be.

“And we have power,” Anakin said, grinning over at Han, the engine next to them humming with satisfaction. “More than enough to get us to the Temple and somewhere we can grab new parts.”

“You really are quite the mechanic, kid,” Han said. Anakin shrugged, completely giving up on getting Han to say ‘Anakin’ instead of ‘kid’.

“I’ve always had a gift with machines,” Anakin said. And it was a useful enough talent, but nothing when he compared it to using the Force – building his podracer had been fun, but the thrill of flying it, of letting his instincts guide him through paths too dangerous for most people to survive, had been beyond exhilarating.

Anakin found himself momentarily distracted by a blaze of emotion coming towards them – the woman, all flames and sunspots. “Your girlfriend’s coming.”

Han started to say something, but Leia’s arrival interrupted him.

And then so did her lips.

It was an amusing picture, really – she was kissing Han desperately and Han certainly wasn’t fighting her off. Even though it was nothing like the kisses Anakin shared with Padmé, it still left him with the sudden longing to see her, trace the outline of her body with his hand and with his mouth.

“If you’d like, I can leave,” Anakin offered. Leia pulled away from Han immediately, flushing a deep pink that Anakin didn’t think was entirely called for. They were in love and they were kissing. There wasn’t anything wrong with that.

“Oh!” Leia said, sounding something close to scandalized and brushing off Han’s attempt to touch her arm. “I didn’t notice you there.”

“I don’t mind,” Anakin said.

“Neither do I,” Han said, trying to take Leia’s hand and looking insulted when he got firmly rebuffed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Not right now, Han,” Leia said, moving a few more steps away from Han.

“What, you’ll only kiss me in private now?” Han asked.

“That’s not what I said,” Leia protested. “Look, I just don’t want to kiss you in front of my… in front of Anakin.”

“What makes him so special?” Han asked.

“What _does_ make me so special?” Anakin asked. Leia hesitantly made eye contact with Anakin, then immediately looked away, radiating uncertainty and embarrassment.

“It’s complicated,” she said, at last.

“But you’ll explain, eventually?” Anakin asked.

“I will. Soon,” Leia said, and that seemed to be her final word on the subject.

Obi-Wan and Luke were here, now, so Anakin left the two lovers to talk to each other.

“The ship’s operational again,” he said quietly to Obi-Wan.

“Well done, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin felt the familiar warmth of Obi-Wan’s approval surge through him. Odd that he should feel it so strongly, even though Obi-Wan still seemed to be disconnected from the Force. “We’ll see what the Temple has to offer and decide if we want to believe young Luke’s story.”

“I _am_ telling the truth,” Luke said, but without much force. Still, Anakin was inclined to believe him. Of course, Anakin hadn’t yet heard the full story, having arrived in the middle the way he had.

“That remains to be seen,” Obi-Wan said, his voice not entirely steady. Anakin frowned – Obi-Wan felt far too unsettled. Achieving serenity of the mind was the one aspect of Jedi training where Anakin knew, without a doubt, that he still was far behind Obi-Wan. To feel Obi-Wan awash in barely controlled emotion was disturbing.

“Excuse us,” Anakin said, reaching out to take Obi-Wan’s arm, pulling him back into the corridor, away from Luke. Soon, they were far enough away to have the semblance of privacy. “Master, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing that you can fix,” Obi-Wan said. Obi-Wan glanced over at the others, and so did Anakin – Leia and Han were involved in a heated discussion and Luke was valiantly attempting to ignore everyone.

“That doesn’t matter,” Anakin said. “Please, just tell me.”

“Anakin, it’s not that simple,” Obi-Wan said.

“Make it that simple,” Anakin said, tugging Obi-Wan just a little closer. Obi-Wan looked at him, now, and Anakin could see small hints of weariness and anger and grief and fear – all the little emotions that Obi-Wan tried so hard to fight, harder than he ever fought any battle droid. Obi-Wan fought against himself so strongly, all of the time. It had to be exhausting.

“Are you thinking of leaving the Order?” Obi-Wan asked softly, and that was a question that Anakin had tried so hard not to make Obi-Wan ask, ever. Why would he ask it now?

“No,” Anakin said, only realizing that he’d tightened his grip on Obi-Wan’s arm when Obi-Wan winced. He loosened his hold, but felt grateful that Obi-Wan hadn’t tried to pull away. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave, Master.”

“Not even for Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin took in a deep, shuddering breath, his world starting to shiver around the edges. Obi-Wan never talked about Padmé when it was just the two of them, and he _always_ called her Senator when he mentioned her in public.

“Why are we talking about this?” Anakin asked, just a little too loudly – Han and Leia were looking over at them. At this moment, though, Anakin couldn’t find it in himself to care. This entire conversation was _not_ supposed to happen, not ever.

“Do you love her?” Obi-Wan asked, and his words were sharp, and they hurt in a way that Obi-Wan’s words hadn’t since Anakin had been a Padawan. “Does she mean more to you than being a Jedi does?”

“No!” Anakin said, and even Luke wasn’t pretending not to listen anymore, though he appeared intelligent enough not to interfere. “Yes… I don’t…”

“I thought it was just a childish infatuation,” Obi-Wan said, and he didn’t sound angry anymore, just very tired. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Master…” Anakin said softly.

“You love her. I can see it in your eyes.” Obi-Wan slowly pulled his arm out of Anakin’s grip. Anakin let him, his fingers feeling useless and numb. “And you're going to leave us for her.”

“No,” Anakin said.

“You wanted to know what was bothering me,” Obi-Wan said. “And that’s it. You’re going to leave the Order.”

“We don’t know that,” Luke said, breaking into their conversation. Anakin glanced up, feeling strength begin to flood into him again. This man was the reason that Obi-Wan was saying these things – Anakin was absolutely sure about that.

“And just what is it that you know?” Anakin asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, I’m certain that you two are from the past – I’d say around twenty to thirty years in my past,” Luke said. He was staring at Obi-Wan and that was perhaps the only thing restraining Anakin’s anger – Luke seemed nearly as hurt by Obi-Wan’s pain as Anakin himself was.

“I knew that part already,” Anakin said, part of him hoping to hear Obi-Wan chastise him for his impatience.

“Well, this is something that you didn’t know,” Leia said, pulling away from Han to stand next to Luke. “My father’s name, and Luke’s father’s name, was Anakin Skywalker.”

For a brief moment, the only sound in the room was the soft buzz of the engine.

Everything made a certain kind of horrible and beautiful sense.

Anakin looked at the pair again, with this new knowledge twisting around in his head.

Leia had Padmé's chin, sharp and arresting, and her coloring, strong and dark. Luke echoed her in the wideness of his eyes and in the delicacy of his features, each line placed just so. And when Anakin reached out with the Force, he could feel Padmé's fierce determination in Leia and her equally fierce kindness in Luke.

And there was something else there, in Luke, a hint of another familiar thing.

 _Obi-Wan_.

Obi-Wan was there, hidden in Luke’s Force signature, a subtle flourish that spoke of a student’s earliest teacher.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me!” Han said loudly, and the world started again.

“It’s true,” Luke said, still looking at Obi-Wan.

“It _is_ true,” Anakin said softly, not daring to look at Obi-Wan himself. “I can feel it, now that I know what to look for.”

“I can’t believe that you let that monster onto my ship,” Han muttered.

Monster? Falling in love and having children might make him a failure as a Jedi, but it wouldn’t make him a monster, not even in the eyes of the Council.

“You will not speak of him that way,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin looked over at Obi-Wan, startled and pleased. “I don’t care what you say he’s done. He hasn’t done it yet. You will not condemn Anakin for a crime he has not committed.”

“Master, I-”

“Not now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, meeting Anakin’s gaze. Anakin backed up a step at the distance in Obi-Wan’s eyes. That look was all the reasons why he’d never planned on telling Obi-Wan about his relationship with Padmé. “Let’s just concentrate on the task at hand.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said.

Anakin made his decision, at that moment. Whatever had happened, whatever he’d ended up doing in this future, he would make up for it. When they found a way back to the past, he would make that look in Obi-Wan’s eyes go away. He would find a way to prove that loving Padmé did not mean he had to stop being a Jedi. He would win back Obi-Wan’s respect. And he'd sensed Obi-Wan in Luke -- so Obi-Wan had to forgive him, at some point in the future. Their relationship would mend. Obi-Wan teaching Anakin's son could mean nothing else.

Anakin _would_ make things right, he would fix everything.

He had to.


	13. Serenity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke knows that attachment doesn't have to be a path to the dark side. Obi-Wan... doesn't.

“Han, you remember where the old Jedi Temple is, right?” Luke asked, half-distracted by watching Obi-Wan leave the engine room. Anakin stared after Obi-Wan for a moment before heading off in a different direction, and Luke was somewhat surprised to see Leia follow him purposefully.

“From when we visited it six months ago, you mean? Yeah, I just might be able to find it,” Han said, the edge in his voice attracting Luke’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked.

“Did you maybe wonder if I would have liked a little warning about having _Darth_ _Vader_ on _my_ ship?” Han asked.

“Oh, that,” Luke said.

“Yeah. _That._ ”

“It’s not like we were expecting him,” Luke said.

“No, but you knew who he was!” Han said.

“My father,” Luke said. “ _That’s_ who he is… or will be. And he's not all bad, Han.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not keyed into the universe the way you Skywalkers are,” Han grumbled. “I just… would really appreciate a head’s-up next time.”

“The next time my father visits from the past, you’ll be the first person I tell,” Luke said.

“Oh, yes, very cute,” Han said. “It makes me uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Well, he’s in a hurry to leave, so you probably won’t be around him for long,” Luke said. “As soon as we figure out what happened, he’s going to be trying to reverse it…”

“And you’ll lose your dad again,” Han said. “Hell, I’m sorry, Luke. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s just… seeing him and seeing Obi-Wan like this… I never thought that I’d have the chance to know what they were like when they were young,” Luke said.

“So, part of you wishes that they weren’t so eager to leave,” Han said. “That they saw this the same way that you do.” Han wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulder in a quick half-hug. “Okay, I’ll just get us over the Temple at a safe speed – no need to rush.”

“Thanks, Han,” Luke said.

“Anytime, you know that.”

Han rubbed Luke’s back reassuringly, and then headed off for the cockpit.

Luke searched for Obi-Wan’s presence and it led him right to the cargo bay, where Obi-Wan was leaning against a large box of… well, Luke was reasonably sure that they were _sanctioned_ goods. They hadn't been there the other day, but that didn't mean anything suspicious. Perfectly ordinary legal cargo, definitely.

Obi-Wan looked up at Luke’s approach and Luke felt, again, the shocking youth of the man in front of him. Obi-Wan might be more than ten years Luke’s elder, but even the beard couldn’t overcome the smoothness of his skin and youthfulness of his features. It made it that much easier to think of him as Obi-Wan, and not as old Ben.

“It’s all true, then,” Obi-Wan said.

“So, Anakin you’ll believe,” Luke said.

“Anakin has been my-” Obi-Wan cut himself off, staring off past Luke. “I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life training him. Knowing that I allowed… my affection for him to cloud my judgment…” Obi-Wan let out a long, heavy breath. “You are living proof that he valued one person over the will of the Force, over the entire Jedi Order. That he did not listen to anything that I taught him. That I failed.”

“Maybe it’s not as clear-cut as that,” Luke said, moving closer to Obi-Wan. “Maybe you just need to look at it from a different point of view.”

“Enlighten me,” Obi-Wan said. Luke was pretty sure that Obi-Wan hadn’t been this much of a smart-ass when he’d been older.

“Look, I don’t have any of the answers,” Luke said, leaning forward. “All of us are just… fumbling around in the dark.”

“Some of us more literally than others,” Obi-Wan said.

Obi-Wan reached out, lightly cupping Luke’s face with a shaking hand, studying Luke with a fierce intensity. Luke knew that Obi-Wan wasn’t using the Force, but his focus still stood out like a beacon, illuminating the shadows.

“Why didn’t I tell you what a Sith is?” Obi-Wan asked. “What else didn’t I tell you?”

“Obi-Wan…”

“Go back to Anakin, Luke,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Get to know your father. From what you’ve told me, you may not get another chance.”

“Come with me,” Luke said, reaching up and taking Obi-Wan’s hand in his own real one.

“If Anakin needs to speak to me, he’ll find me,” Obi-Wan said. He squeezed Luke’s hand gently, then pulled away. “For my part, I can think of nothing that I wish to say to him.”

“So, what, you’re going to brood down here until we get to the Temple?” Luke asked.

“I _plan_ to meditate,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve implied a great many things about what I’ll see when we arrive and I should try to prepare myself.”

“Good luck with that,” Luke said. Obi-Wan smiled for just a moment, then closed his eyes, making it quite clear that he was done talking to Luke.

It was hard, leaving the room, leaving Obi-Wan behind. And Luke couldn’t stop himself from glancing back when he reached the curve in the corridor.

Obi-Wan was on his knees now, perfectly still, brow furrowed. There was a helpless yearning coming off of him in waves – Luke was sure that Anakin could feel it too, wherever he was, and that Anakin knew the reason as well as Luke himself did.

Obi-Wan was reaching for the Force. He was stretching out his awareness, trying to lose himself in the gentle ebb and flow that Luke could feel pulsing all around them.

Obi-Wan kept _trying_ , over and over.

And he was failing, every time.


	14. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia finds out about the Jedi Code.

“It’s not that big a ship. There really isn’t anywhere to go,” Leia said. Anakin stopped, a gloved hand lifting to rest against the wall. In his black cloak, someone else might assume that he’d blend into the shadows, but, as Leia would have suspected, he stood out as much as Vader ever had. He was taller than Luke was, closer to Han’s height, and he wasn't afraid to use every inch of it.

“I can try,” Anakin said.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Even with everything that she’d seen so far, it felt shocking to actually say it, admit that she’d noticed it.

Anakin’s laugh surprised her too, low and mocking. And it didn’t feel like he was laughing at her.

“Of course I care,” Anakin said, turning his face toward her slightly, but not looking at her. “I should ask why you would doubt that, but I’m not sure that I want to hear the answer.”

“Probably not. That doesn’t mean that you might not need to hear it,” Leia said.

“Why does everyone think that I need to be lectured?” Anakin asked, but the corner of his mouth had turned up.

“Perhaps because you don’t seem to listen the first time,” Leia said tartly. Anakin glanced back at her, and his eyes looked kind and soft.

“You’ve been talking to Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. The light in his eyes faded then, though he didn’t stop smiling.

The thing that she’d never expected from Darth Vader – that he could care so much about having hurt a friend. That he’d _had_ such a good friend. Luke had tried to explain to her, afterwards, about why Luke had needed to try to turn Vader back and why it had worked, but even though she’d known that he was right, she’d never been able to grasp why.

She still couldn’t. She now had an image of Anakin Skywalker to counter that of Darth Vader, but she couldn’t make them fit together.

She couldn’t reconcile the man who’d caused her so much pain with the man who regretted so deeply the pain he’d inflicted on Obi-Wan.

“Why does our existence hurt him so much?” Leia asked, taking a step forward. “My… my adoptive father never hinted that Obi-Wan would do anything but welcome meeting me. Luke still speaks of his time with Obi-Wan with great fondness. Why doesn’t _this_ one feel the same?”

Anakin moved toward her, his gaze lightly skimming over her face.

“It’s what you represent that he dislikes,” Anakin said. “Obi-Wan is a Jedi Master. And none of you seem to understand what that means.”

Leia bristled, but managed to calm herself when Anakin’s smile briefly widened into a knowing smirk. He was _trying_ to upset her, for some blasted unknown reason. Well, she wouldn’t fall for it.

“Then explain it to me,” she said, her voice calm and even.

Anakin glided half a step closer to her. Close enough to touch, and even though he didn’t make a move to, she knew that he could sense just how unsettled she was by his nearness.

“A Jedi does not know emotion,” Anakin said, tilting his head slightly as he watched her. His eyes were so blue this close and they reminded her of Luke. “Instead, a Jedi focuses on inner peace. Emotions can cause… hesitation when action is required, and inappropriate reactions when a more diplomatic approach is needed.”

Anakin reached out for her hair, and she noticed that he didn't wear a glove on that hand. Somehow, he knew exactly which pin to pull out to cause the bun to unravel. He opened his fingers, and she heard the dim clunk of the pin hitting the metal of the floor.

“A true Jedi does not allow himself to be trapped in ignorance,” Anakin continued, brushing his hand over her hair and then reaching for another pin. “A Jedi must open himself to the Force and the Force will show him how to seek the knowledge that he requires. The Force contains everything that anyone ever needs to know – all they have to do is find out how to look.”

Another pin fell to the floor, then another.

“A Jedi… and this part is the one that applies to our current situation, so I’d suggest you listen,” Anakin said. Leia pulled in an indignant breath, but then let it out again, slowly, as Anakin ran his hand through her hair. She reminded herself that she was only proving a point. “The path of the Jedi is found through serenity and not passion. Passion is a snare for the weak-willed. Passion leads to the abandonment of duty and the loss of justice. Passion can be… overwhelming. People get lost in it, lose themselves willingly.”

Anakin’s smile changed, softened.

“With your hair down, you look very much like your mother,” he said.

“Obi-Wan…” Leia had to pause to wet her lips. “Obi-Wan said that her name was Padmé. Padmé Amidala.”

“Yes, her name is Padmé,” Anakin said, and he lingered over the word. “She’s brilliant, and so incredibly brave, and even Obi-Wan likes her.”

“Why… why wouldn’t he? Before he knew about your relationship with her?” Leia asked.

“Obi-Wan doesn’t think very highly of politicians,” Anakin said. “He doesn’t trust them.”

Anakin sounded amused by that, though Leia couldn’t think of why.

“Tell me, Leia,” Anakin said, his hand moving down to rest on the skin at the nape of her neck. “What do you think of the Jedi philosophy?”

“About passion?” Leia asked. Anakin inclined his head. “I don’t agree.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Anakin said. “I saw the way you were kissing your... Han Solo earlier. You don’t have any problems showing your love for him. It’s admirable.”

“But Obi-Wan wouldn’t agree?” Leia asked.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Anakin said. “So, you see, it’s not you that he’s having trouble with – it’s the idea that I allowed myself to so fully submit to another person. That I embraced my passion instead of pushing it away, like he does.”

Anakin brushed her hair away from her face and then leaned forward, lightly kissing her on the forehead. Leia tensed, not entirely sure how to react. His hand slid down further, pulling her into an oddly comforting hug.

They remained like that for a long moment.

“I’m going to have a daughter,” Anakin said. His face was still pressed against her hair and she felt the words more than she heard them. “Leia. It’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” Leia said, and the words were easier to say than she would have expected. He pulled away, appraising her with a careful eye.

"There are other things that I'd like to tell you," Anakin said. "But more than that, I want to know about you."

"There's so much that you won't like hearing," Leia said. "And I don't know how to explain it all, anyway."

"You could just tell me the good parts," Anakin said, wistfully. "We could pretend that the rest didn't happen."

"I can't do that," Leia said.

"Why not?" Anakin asked. He sounded slightly petulant now, a child refused a favorite toy. For a moment, there, he'd seemed so warm, so appealing. She'd almost imagined calling him 'father', just once, to see how it sounded. She'd actually allowed herself to forget about the needle, and Alderaan, and the millions of other reasons that she had to hate him.

"You said yourself that a Jedi should not seek ignorance," Leia said, moving away from him. "But you didn't make a very good Jedi, apparently. Not like Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Anakin pressed his lips together and his eyes looked much darker now.

"You tell me about what being a true Jedi is, yet practically brag about how you fail to follow the guidelines," Leia said. "Maybe you are a good man, but for all your power, you are very weak where it counts."

Anakin stalked towards her and Leia resisted the urge to back up again.

"If not for that... weakness," Anakin said cuttingly. "You never would have been born."

He reached toward her and Leia couldn't quite contain her flinch. Anakin smiled, sliding his hand onto her shoulder. In contrast to his words, his touch stayed gentle, almost soothing.

"I love your mother, very much," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Don't you dare try to make it sound like a flaw."

"You were Empire's right hand," Leia said, pulling away from him with a jerk. "You headed the Jedi Purge and personally killed _at least_ eighty-seven of your fellow Jedi. And those are just the ones we can prove."

Anakin shook his head. "You're lying."

"I wish I were," Leia said. "The list of crimes that you committed under the Emperor's rule is... horrifying. Han's absolutely right. You _are_ a monster. Not just in the eyes of the public, but in word and deed."

"You have to be lying," Anakin whispered.

"You know I'm not," Leia said, voice trembling as she finally turned and walked away.

But she was pretty sure that he wasn't listening any more.


	15. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a bit of a breakthrough, emotionally speaking.

Luke was finally gone – though Obi-Wan was certain that the child was still watching through the Force.

Still, for all that Obi-Wan himself could sense, he was alone.

He’d never been alone before in his life.

Always, the Force had been his companion, his guide, and his refuge.

Now, his senses felt both muted and yet rubbed raw. The hard floor below his knees, the recycled air in the hold, and the hum of the ship’s engines, all of it seemed sharper without the protection of the Force.

He’d closed his eyes earlier to shield them from the bleak monochrome of the ship, but he could still feel it, pushing in against him, dull and colorless and empty.

He’d been trying to find his center, find his inner calm, for some time now, but it was as elusive as the Force. Which made a distressing amount of sense – he’d never had to try to meditate without the Force before.

He wasn’t entirely sure where to start. All his knowledge, all his serenity, sprang from that central point.

And though he had one hand on his lightsaber, the assurance that its presence normally gave him was missing. Without the Force, it was just a weapon.

 _More than a simple tool, your lightsaber is._

His first lightsaber had been green.

They’d been taken before what had appeared to be an endless box of handles and had been told to choose the one that felt right. The one he’d picked had been the most beautiful, and even though it hadn’t felt quite right, he’d chosen it anyway.

He’d spent over a year with that first lightsaber, always a step or two behind the rest of the class.

One day, Master Yoda had asked him to stay behind.

The Master hadn’t chided him, hadn’t said a word about the lightsaber, he’d merely told Obi-Wan that need and want were two separate things, and that there was a wisdom in knowing the difference.

A week later, Obi-Wan had asked Master Yoda if he could look through the handles again, to see if he’d perhaps chosen a bit too hastily the first time.

His second lightsaber had been blue.

The instant that he’d activated it, he’d felt something shift inside him, and he’d known that it was the right choice.

Perhaps because of that, he’d always found blue to be a soothing color, one that he felt drawn towards. Though he never would have dreamed of indulging himself by adding blue to the traditional Jedi robes, he’d acquired a beautiful dark blue Eyer’luom two months after his knighting and placed it in an inconspicuous location.

Anakin had knocked it over, the week after his sixteenth birthday. The pot had smashed, but they’d saved the plant. Anakin had handed him a replacement jug to put it in, and Obi-Wan could remember noticing, for the first time, that Anakin’s eyes were just the same shade as the Eyer’luom’s petals.

Obi-Wan pushed away the memory. It wouldn't help. 

Perhaps if he thought over how he’d been taught how to meditate, he could discover how to accomplish the task without the aid of the Force.

 _Your greatest flaw is your impatience, youngling._

The first time that he’d met Master Windu, face to face, he’d ended up getting a lecture.

He’d been a wrigglesome ten, all energy and edges. He’d been playing with another youngling – Hujah Kaling, who hadn’t, as he recalled, ended up being chosen to be a Padawan.

They’d been playing Chase, and Obi-Wan had barreled right into Master Windu, nearly knocking him over. He’d gotten a horribly stern lecture, one that left him pale and near terrified that he’d be tossed out in the morning, with the garbage.

Then, Master Windu had knelt down, looked in his eyes, and asked if he’d learnt his lesson. When he’d stuttered out a shaking ‘yes’, he’d seen one of Mace Windu’s rare smiles.

Master Windu had sought him out, two months later, and shown him a more advanced meditative technique than any that Obi-Wan had done yet.

He’d warned Obi-Wan that emotion was its most dangerous when it was unrecognized and in distilling and facing each emotion, one could more readily release them.

It was a technique that Obi-Wan had not dared use since Qui-Gon Jinn’s death. Still, he tried it now, clearing out his mind and allowing himself to touch each emotion in turn.

 _Fear._

He was horribly, deeply afraid. He was afraid of what he would discover at the Temple, what could be so horrible that Luke could not speak of it but in cryptic warnings. He was afraid of being trapped in this strange, broken future. Of never seeing _his_ Temple, his home, again.

He was terrified that this broken connection would not heal. That he would forever face the world only half-aware.

 _Grief._

Even as he feared not regaining that connection, he mourned for its loss.

Always, there was Qui-Gon’s death, pulling and tugging at his subconscious. This was the reason that he’d feared using this method, because to mourn Qui-Gon would be to release his memory, and Obi-Wan was not yet ready for that.

Anakin’s face, after Geonosis. They’d both been recovering from the wounds that Dooku had inflicted, and Anakin had almost shyly confided that his mother was dead. That that was the reason he’d been on Tatooine when Obi-Wan had called for him.

And today.

Obi-Wan shied away from that thought as well.

Master Qui-Gon had reminded Obi-Wan again and again to keep his mind on the moment, on the living Force, but that was hardly helpful advice right now.

He didn’t have the Force to guide him now, and without it, every emotion hit him like a tsunami, blasting straight to the core, leaving him open and defenseless.

Without the Force, he couldn’t push his emotions away. Perhaps, then, it was finally time to allow himself to think those things that he’d considered more than forbidden.

Because every emotion that he could name eventually returned to the one thing that he couldn’t avoid, because it permeated every aspect of his life.

So, Obi-Wan returned to the distillation meditation, and started over.

 _Fear_.

Fear was the orange glow of an energy screen and the near-silent gasp of surprise from Qui-Gon as he was killed before Obi-Wan's eyes. Fear was kneeling in front of Master Yoda and saying that he _would_ train Anakin, whether or not the Council approved.

Fear was every day of his life with Anakin, a constant aching fear of losing him. At first, because he was Obi-Wan’s last connection to a Master that he’d respected.

A man that he'd admired.  

Later, but far sooner than he would ever have predicted, it was simply because losing Anakin would mean losing everything that mattered.

 _Grief._

He could remember holding Qui-Gon’s dying body and then, later, watching as his body burned to ash. Though Obi-Wan had been well aware that Qui-Gon had become part of the Force, he’d still felt cheated and alone. He’d wanted to cry, but hadn’t let himself, not once. He hadn't dared.

Three years later, Anakin had asked if he could visit his mother. Obi-Wan had passed Anakin’s request along to the Council, and then it had been Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan alone, who had explained to Anakin just why that wasn’t possible. It had been Obi-Wan who had watched Anakin cry, and hadn’t been able to think of any way to comfort him that would not contradict what Obi-Wan had just said about forming attachments.

And just today, Obi-Wan had discovered that Anakin loved Padmé Amidala enough to have children with her.

But he still wasn’t quite sure that he could face up to the truth in that pain, so he moved on.

 _Anger_.

He’d touched the dark side in his fight with his Master’s killer. He’d known that at the time and later, when all the Masters were praising him for being able to defeat a Sith where Qui-Gon had failed, he'd wondered how the Council had become so blind.

Master Windu had clapped him on the shoulder and told him that he should be proud of himself, that Qui-Gon was proud of him.

Obi-Wan had never had a harder time thanking anyone in his life.

Two years ago, Count Dooku had implied that Qui-Gon would have betrayed the Republic to join Dooku’s side, and that that should be reason enough for Obi-Wan to do the same.

Obi-Wan had itched to place his hand on his lightsaber at that moment, to slice Dooku in two.

Nothing Dooku had done after that had endeared him to Obi-Wan.

 _Jealousy._

He’d been intensely jealous of young Anakin Skywalker, who’d so easily and quickly won Qui-Gon’s affection in a way that Obi-Wan, himself, never had.

One day, when Anakin was fifteen, and upset about some petty limitation, he’d told Obi-Wan that he wanted a new Master.

The words had stung, burrowed deep under Obi-Wan’s skin, and though Anakin had never repeated them, the thought of them still held an unexpected amount of pain.

At the time, he’d wondered what Master it was that Anakin might have been thinking of. He’d spent countless hours that month, going through lists of names in his mind, yet denying to himself that it mattered at all. Telling himself that he was only concerned about Anakin’s headstrong nature getting him into trouble.

Obi-Wan had quite a lot of practice in lying to himself.

 _Love_.

He’d loved Qui-Gon Jinn. He could admit that now, with the distance of years. Qui-Gon had been his mentor, had been, as Anakin might say, the closest thing that he’d had to a father.

Qui-Gon, then, could serve as a study of the downfalls of love. Because of his love for Qui-Gon, he’d experienced jealousy, grief, and fear. Because of his love for Qui-Gon, he’d very nearly fallen to the dark side.

His reaction to Qui-Gon’s death was a perfect example of why a Jedi could not love, could not form attachments.

And yet, looking back, Obi-Wan could not see how he could have avoided forming a bond with Anakin.

And in the years following Qui-Gon’s death, Anakin had become more than a duty, more than a Padawan, and more than a friend.

He had become the whole of Obi-Wan’s world.

Finally admitting that, even just to himself, brought on equal shares of relief and fear.

A part of him had always known this truth – that once he allowed himself access to his true feelings, he would never be able to ignore them, never be able to push them away.

He would forgive Anakin for loving Padmé, as he always forgave Anakin. If they managed to get home, he already knew that he would not be capable of telling the Council of Anakin’s indiscretion.

Because under the jealousy and anger and grief, Obi-Wan _loved_.

Facing that truth made everything simple – he wanted Anakin to smile, to always look on Obi-Wan with affection and caring. If that meant lying to the Council, he was already painfully aware that he would pay that price. For years, he’d hidden knowledge of what he’d thought had just been an adolescent crush. Covering up Anakin and Padmé's love was… just a matter of degree.

And though the Force remained beyond his reach, there was a certain kind of serenity here, in this new knowledge of self.

Perhaps, in time, that would be enough.


	16. Harmony and Certainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin isn't jealous. He just doesn't want other people touching his things.

He missed Padmé.

It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling – he often longed for her when he was away with Obi-Wan on missions. But this situation was unlike any he’d encountered before and having her here, by his side, would be a comfort.

And he’d have loved to see her next to Luke and Leia, to compare the children with their mother.

That wasn't possible, but when he got back to the past, he’d just fix things so that he and Padmé would raise Luke and Leia, and Leia’s Jedi Purge will never have happened.

He just had to find out exactly where things went wrong in this future.

Which meant being patient with these people, and _that_ would be a lot easier if they didn’t attack him whenever he was trying to be nice.

Just what had gotten the girl so upset? She’d seemed friendly enough for a minute and then she’d skittered off like he’d lopped off a limb.

Obi-Wan might be mad at him, too, but at least he knew why and had an idea of how to make it better.

And that was a thought.

Anakin reached out to sense Obi-Wan, and was pleasantly surprised to note that Obi-Wan’s anger already seemed to be gone.

Everyone else was in the same place, near the cockpit and with high tempers, but Obi-Wan had managed to find a place as far from them as possible.

Obi-Wan was meditating and, even muted, he was broadcasting waves of soothing energy.

Anakin was already striding toward Obi-Wan’s location before he’d made the conscious decision to go to him.

And the closer he moved to Obi-Wan, the easier it was to think clearly. Obi-Wan might not be connected to the Force right now, but he was still a Jedi, still _felt_ far more like a Jedi than anyone else on this ship.

His first glimpse of Obi-Wan was reassuring – his Master was kneeling, lips moving in a familiar near-silent chant. It was an image that Anakin was loath to disrupt, so he slowed to a careful prowl, edging around the various boxes of stolen goods.

When he finally reached Obi-Wan, Anakin fell to his knees in front of him, mirroring him.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“Master, I wish to apologize,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. They were a forgiving and warm blue-green at the moment, and Obi-Wan was smiling, which was _generally_ a good sign.

“And what are you apologizing for?” Obi-Wan asked.

“For not telling you about Padmé,” Anakin said. “I should have accepted the consequences of falling in love with her. I'm sorry.”

Of course, if it hadn’t been for the extremely unlikely circumstance of them getting thrown into the future, Obi-Wan might never have found out…

Well, Luke and Leia were evidence to the contrary, he supposed. Still, it’s not as if he could have _predicted_ that he’d be stupid enough or careless enough to have children.

“I knew,” Obi-Wan said. “I knew that you cared for her, though not the depth of your feelings.”

“So, what do we do now?” Anakin asked.

“What we always do – blunder on ahead, trust to the Force and to each other,” Obi-Wan said.

“You still trust me?” Anakin asked.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, with a heavy sigh, as if he couldn’t possibly understand why Anakin might be worried about that. “Of course, I trust you.”

“Leia told me that I kill Jedi, in this future of hers,” Anakin said, ducking his head and glancing away from Obi-Wan. “She wasn’t lying, I could tell.”

“Anakin, look at me,” Obi-Wan said softly. Anakin swallowed hard, and then obeyed. Obi-Wan’s gaze was certain and strong, as always, but there was something different there. Something new, something almost tender. And when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “ _You_ have not done this, not yet. If you do not wish to be a killer, then do not kill.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Anakin whispered.

“It _is_ that simple,” Obi-Wan said. “It just may not be that easy. We don’t know what reasons you’ll think that you have.”

“No reason could ever be good enough,” Anakin said.

“As a Jedi, I _would_ be inclined to agree,” Obi-Wan said dryly, but his hand was settling down on Anakin’s shoulder, softening his words. “But you haven’t done any of that yet, Anakin. We just have to make sure that you don’t.”

Anakin nodded, letting Obi-Wan’s peace seep into him, allowing his breathing to slow down and synchronize with Obi-Wan’s.

“When we get to the Temple, you must tell me everything that you sense,” Obi-Wan said. “We need all the information that we can get and I’m sure that you can tell that I’ve yet to find a way to connect to the Force. I’ll need you to be the Force for me.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, words barely audible. This close, he could feel the blood racing through Obi-Wan’s body, and it was a simple matter to match his heartbeat with Obi-Wan’s. Normally, it wouldn’t take any effort at all, but even with Obi-Wan disconnected from the Force, it was still easier to establish harmony with him than it would be with any other Jedi.

They worked well together. Even the Council was forced to admit that.

“Do you want to practice?” Obi-Wan asked him. Anakin pushed back the sliver of hurt, and nodded, reminding himself that Obi-Wan had just told Anakin he trusted him. “Tell me something about these people.”

“Leia’s angry at me,” Anakin said tonelessly, pushing back the pain from that as well. “I can’t quite see what she’s mad about – she’s blocking me.”

“She’s strong enough to keep you away?” Obi-Wan asked, surprised.

“Strong enough that she’d know if I tried to dig deeper,” Anakin said.

“And the boy?” Obi-Wan asked.

“He’s been taught,” Anakin said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, centering himself again. Obi-Wan’s interest in Luke was… nothing special, nothing to be concerned about.

“By me,” Obi-Wan said.

“Not just you,” Anakin said sharply. He pressed his lips together and then, after a moment, gently reached his mind out toward Luke, trying to keep far enough away that the child wouldn’t sense him.

His eyes flew open and he let out a surprised gasp.

“Master Yoda taught him, as well,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, likely adding that information to whatever Luke had actually told him. “He didn’t mention that to you?”

“He didn’t,” Obi-Wan said. “Curious.”

“Master, should we be concerned about him?” Anakin asked.

“Isn’t he your son?” Obi-Wan asked. “You’d think that you would want to trust him.”

“He’s the one that’s telling us where to go, the one that’s… so happy to see you,” Anakin said. “I worry that he knows more about how we arrived here than he claims.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to sense that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I’m not sure,” Anakin said reluctantly. “He's very strong and his feelings about seeing us are clouding almost everything else. I’m also fairly sure that he sensed me when I probed him. He just doesn’t seem to mind.”

“He’s _that_ strong?” Obi-Wan asked.

“He’s almost as powerful as I am,” Anakin said, trying to hide his distaste at the thought. Obi-Wan’s contemplative look probably meant that he’d failed.

“Are you _jealous_ , Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Of course not,” Anakin said quickly. “He’s a fellow Jedi and almost certainly my own son. If anything, I’m proud of his strength.”

“Jealousy is an emotion that does not suit a Jedi Knight,” Obi-Wan said.

“I know that, Master,” Anakin said. “I’m not jealous.”

Obi-Wan gazed at him for a while longer, doubt in his eyes, and Anakin fought the urge to shift as he suddenly felt the strain of being on his knees.

At times like this, Anakin had to remind himself that the benefits of being Obi-Wan’s partner outweighed these not _too_ frequent moments when Obi-Wan managed to make him feel all of nine years old again, dusty and newly arrived at the Temple.

“If you say so,” Obi-Wan said. He rubbed Anakin’s shoulder, his hand strong and warm, even though the layers of fabric, and then he stood up gracefully.

He sighed, glancing away from Anakin, his thoughts unreadable. All of a sudden, Obi-Wan felt very far away, and Anakin disliked that feeling immensely.

Just as Anakin was trying to figure out if he’d done anything else wrong, Obi-Wan looked back down at him and held out a hand.

“Shall we march back into the fray, my friend?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin clasped Obi-Wan’s hand gratefully, pulling himself up. “And face the uncertain future?

“It definitely sounds one of our plans,” Anakin said. “Lunch at Dex’s when we get back to the past?”

“It’s a deal,” Obi-Wan said, squeezing Anakin’s hand once before releasing it.

“You’re paying,” Anakin said.

“And why would I do that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You still owe me for saving your skin two missions ago,” Anakin said. “We haven’t been back yet, remember?”

“Oh, yes, now I do,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s the fifth time, yes?”

“The sixth, Master,” Anakin corrected.

“Ah, so it is,” Obi-Wan said, with a wink. “Very well, I’ll pay.”

“And I know just what I’m going to order,” Anakin teased.

“The same thing that you always order when I’m paying, I expect,” Obi-Wan muttered good-naturedly. “Two helpings of most expensive items that you can stomach.”

“It’s not my fault that I get cravings,” Anakin said.

“Yet, oddly enough, you never crave coddled Bherrid eggs when _you’re_ paying,” Obi-Wan said.

“It’s one of those great mysteries,” Anakin said lightly. “Like what really caused the dark energy on Dagobah, why Master Windu only ever seems to need to practice when I’ve reserved special time, just what makes the sky on Mar’ur’sua green, and whether or not Master Yoda knows about that smell near his rooms.”

Obi-Wan was chuckling by the time Anakin had finished and Anakin smiled to himself.

He’d be willing to bet that _Luke_ had never made Obi-Wan laugh like that, even if the child had convinced Obi-Wan to train him.

When he and Obi-Wan got back to the past, Anakin would change things so that he taught Luke, instead. That would be much more fitting.

And on occasion, just to himself, Anakin was willing to admit that he had a small streak of selfishness. And the simple truth was that Obi-Wan was his Master, just as Padmé was his wife. He certainly couldn't imagine wanting Padmé to marry anyone else. Obi-Wan was _his_ Master.  

Anakin just wanted to keep it that way. There wasn't anything wrong with that.


	17. Over Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han isn't anybody's monkey.

“So, how’d it go?” Han asked when he heard Luke enter the cockpit.

“I think I’m winning him over,” Luke said, settling in the co-pilot’s seat. “I really think that I’m reaching him.”

“That’s… good. I guess. I still don’t get why you care so much,” Han said.

Han glanced over at Luke, who stayed silent, a pensive look on his face. They’d known each other years, and Luke could still surprise Han. Luke had already saved his father once, and here he was, all fired-up to do it again, and save his old mentor in the process.

Part of him had missed that passionate kid who’d unknowingly pulled Han’s conscience out of hiding, so seeing Luke so eager was nice, but he never had understood Luke’s thing with the Jedi, even if he did respect it.

“Just… why bother yourself about what he thinks?” Han asked.

“Obi-Wan may not have been my teacher for very long, but during that time, he was also my friend,” Luke said finally. “He’s still my friend.”

“This is about the ghost thing?”

“It’s all right, Han,” Luke said. “You don’t have to believe me.”

“I never said that I didn’t believe you,” Han said. “I just said that I’ve never heard anyone _sane_ say that they’d seen a ghost. That’s all.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Luke muttered.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m here for,” Han said.

Luke was leaning back in his chair now, looking thoughtful. That was probably a bad sign. Han had been against this whole ‘finding out about more about Vader’ plan from the beginning. And having impossible things happen was not making him like the idea any better. He’d thought that _ghosts_ were bad, but people moving through time was a level of crazy that he’d never considered.

He did not need Luke going off on some mission to help put Vader and Kenobi back into the past, where they could muck things up. Han was fully satisfied with the present the way that it was – any change was really doomed to make things worse, as he saw it.

Hell, apparently Kenobi hadn’t even liked the idea of Vader falling in love and having kids at all. And not having Luke and Leia around would… well, make Han’s life much _safer_ , but also a lot less enjoyable.

The Kenobi that he’d met before had always seemed a little too pushy and manipulative for Han to be completely comfortable around him. He couldn’t see how this one could be any different. Kenobi had only been here a few hours and he'd already managed to completely monopolize Luke’s attention for the foreseeable future.

That young version of Vader certainly had hovered over Kenobi from the second that Vader had flashed out of thin air, and it reminded him a little of Luke’s faith in the guy, even long after Kenobi had been dead. Clearly, the old man had some kind of hook that worked real well on Skywalkers.

Frankly, Han just didn’t like what Kenobi inspired people to do. Sure, Luke had pulled things out all right in the end, and that Jedi Knight stuff that Kenobi had taught Luke may have saved their asses a time or two, but nobody needed that kind of power. Not even a generally good sort like Luke.

Han had even liked Vader for a while in the engine room, and then Kenobi had gotten involved again, blown things all to hell. That had to mean something.

“Anyway, I gave him something to think about. If he was listening,” Luke said.

“So, you planning on talking to Vader?” Han asked, trying to sound casual.

“I’m not sure,” Luke said. “Leia went after him but… they fought. She should be here soon.”

“Okay, see, that’s still kinda creepy,” Han said.

Luke shrugged.

“It’s not something that I even think about, anymore,” Luke said. “And the stronger she gets, the easier it’ll be.”

“Great,” Han said.

“It’s not as though I’m doing on purpose,” Luke said.

“That’s really not the point,” Han said.

“Well, if you could explain just what the point _is_ ,” Luke started, before cutting himself off and glancing back at the door. “Hold on. She’s… really upset. Do you mind?”

“Mind what?” Han asked, but Luke was up and out the door without even a parting comment. “Right, go ahead and ignore me. I’m just the driver. It’s not like I’m marrying into the family or anything.”

Han waited hopefully for Luke to pop back into the cockpit to make a smart comment, but all he heard were Luke and Leia’s indistinct voices. And then just Leia’s voice, getting louder.

“… further down the path than you’re willing to admit!”

Leia yelling at Luke had to be a bad sign.

Han put on a burst of speed, pulling out of the slow, leisurely route that he’d been taking and putting them on a more direct course. He’d tried to make things easier for Luke, but, honestly, now Han just wanted to get Vader and Kenobi off his ship before anything too destructive happened.

If Luke really wanted to bond with Vader, he could damn well do it somewhere else. Han was _not_ going to play at being an air cab for the sake of Darth Vader. He’d drop them off at the Temple and then meet up with his old contact, Dex, down at the warehouse, like he'd been planning before Leia had roped him into picking up Luke.

And if Kenobi talked Luke into another ill-fated mission, he would just have to find another ride.

Han wasn’t going to be available.


	18. Ancient History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to the others, Obi-Wan and Anakin take a detour.

Obi-Wan was reasonably certain that he was leading Anakin toward the cockpit of the ship. At least, Anakin hadn’t yet tried to correct him, and he took that as a good sign.

They’d stopped talking just moments ago and Obi-Wan still felt a great deal of contentment from his recent decisions. Anakin would make his own choices, and Obi-Wan was no longer his Master. All he could offer, and that all he _should_ offer now, was his support and his unwavering faith that Anakin would, when empowered with the correct knowledge, make the right decisions.

All they needed was that information that everyone had clearly lacked the first time around.

Then they could simply arrange for this future to never come to pass.

And that would not be a hardship at all. He’d found… Anakin’s children to be pleasant enough, but they were hardly worth the fall of the Order and of the Republic.

Hardly worth Anakin falling to the dark side.

There had to be a reason that the Force had brought them here, a reason that this was possible. Preventing the ruination of the Jedi Order seemed reason enough. Perhaps this was even a necessary, though cruel, test for Anakin as the Chosen One.

“Master,” Anakin said, stopping abruptly and tilting his head as if listening for something. Communing with the Force, without a doubt. Anakin was so fierce, so _intense_ , in his connection with the Force. That was part of what made it so easy for Obi-Wan to believe, during that first year, that Qui-Gon had been right, that this boy was the subject of the prophecy. Even as a child, Anakin had had a way of noticing the detailed twists and minute ripples in the Force, and with a concentration that had rivaled any Master that Obi-Wan had ever known.

Not that he’d dream of saying such a thing to Anakin. Even at the tender age of ten, the boy had had enough arrogance without Obi-Wan puffing him up.

“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, when it became clear that Anakin wasn’t going to say anything else without being prompted first.

“I’d like to make a slight detour,” Anakin said. “As you know, if we curve off to the left, we’ll reach the cockpit, but if we walk past that corridor and just go around the bend, we’ll run into Threepio.”

“I know that you’re fond of droids, but I don’t see how Threepio can possibly help us if his mind has been wiped, and it clearly has,” Obi-Wan said.

“He can help us, Master,” Anakin said, looking at Obi-Wan with wide eyes, with that trick of managing to give the impression that he was quite young and still looking _up_ at Obi-Wan, despite having been the taller of the pair since before he’d turned seventeen.

“How?” Obi-Wan asked, folding his arms together and wondering just what Anakin had up his sleeve this time. Anakin grinned, toothy and happy.

“I can bring his memory back,” he said. Obi-Wan tried to hide his reaction, but Anakin’s smile only grew.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Obi-Wan said. “That’s the whole point of a mind-wipe – to make the information not just inaccessible, but non-existent.”

“If being with the Jedi has taught me anything, it’s just how valuable knowledge can be,” Anakin said. He still clearly pleased at having surprised Obi-Wan, and for once Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him – if Anakin had really managed to pull it off, he’d done something that no one else ever had. At least not on record. “So, when I reacquired Threepio, I worked out a way to route his memory through every system that runs him. His conscious mind can be wiped, but the memory is still there in his subroutines, including his personality subroutines. He’s still acting like Threepio, so I _know_ that I can bring his memory back. I can do that with Artoo and Arfour, as well.”

“Anakin, you really didn’t have the authority to tamper with R4,” Obi-Wan said, but it was a reflex, as part of him was still overwhelmed at the magnitude of what Anakin had accomplished. “The astromechs are the property of the Republic.”

“All I did was make him better,” Anakin said. “The Council can’t complain about _that_.”

“Anakin, the Council does not exist simply to bedevil you,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin just kept smiling at him, and Obi-Wan allowed himself to give in to the glow of pride that he felt for Anakin. “Still, I must admit that I am impressed. Shall we find out how well it worked?”

“If that’s what you’d like, Master,” Anakin said, apparently willing enough to play indifferent now that he’d made his point.

And there Threepio was, tucked away, muttering to himself about that Han Solo character. Another marvel to Obi-Wan was how easily Anakin sensed droids – Obi-Wan _could_ but it was profoundly different, and far more difficult, than sensing lifeforms. To Obi-Wan, droids buzzed like unpleasant but unobtrusive insects, and didn’t feel at all like the clean and soft pulses and purrs of people.

“Threepio,” Anakin said gently.

“Master… Anakin, was it?” Threepio asked. “How might I be of service?”

“I’d just like to take a look at some of your systems,” Anakin said, still speaking in that soft, beguiling tone. “You saw how careful I was with the engine earlier, so you know that I won’t damage anything.”

Threepio stared at Anakin for a moment, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know better, he’d swear that the droid was thinking the matter over and not just analyzing the data.

“Perhaps I should ask Master Luke first,” Threepio said.

“I know Artoo,” Anakin said. “And you mentioned earlier that you know Obi-Wan. You can trust me.”

Threepio turned towards Obi-Wan for a moment, and Obi-Wan gave it a game smile.

“Well, I suppose that it's all right,” Threepio said. “Master Luke trusted Obi-Wan Kenobi, very much. Would you like me to shut off?”

“You might want to,” Anakin said, moving forward and kneeling down in front of Threepio. “I’m going to open up your chest.”

“Oh, yes, I believe that I’d like to avoid seeing that,” Threepio said. The lights of his eyes flicked out.

Obi-Wan grimaced. The droids that Anakin spent a lot of time with always seemed to have a more… life-like quality than the other droids that Obi-Wan had encountered. He usually just blamed that on Anakin’s sheer brilliance with machines, but sometimes, he did wonder if something else was at work.

So, seeing Threepio taken apart felt oddly like watching an acquaintance being tended to in a medlab, despite Obi-Wan’s knowledge that Threepio did _not_ have a connection to the Force.

Anakin was muttering to himself – he had a tendency towards that. Anakin liked to say what he was doing, liked keep the people around him updated on his progress, and just enjoyed to chatter on meaninglessly if there was nothing interesting to say.

Obi-Wan had gotten far too used to that tendency. On the few occasions in the last twelve years when he’d worked with other Jedi, he’d felt the weight of the silence as if it were a fault, and not the blessing of a shared wordless connection to the Force.

“Did you notice the leg?” Anakin asked, his voice suddenly louder, and Obi-Wan got the impression that Anakin wanted him to answer.

“Ah, the bottom half of the right one is silver,” Obi-Wan managed, after a moment. Anakin glanced back over his shoulder, with a sly smile.

“You only just noticed that,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, took a long, hard look at the smugness on Anakin’s face, and then closed his mouth and gave an easy shrug.

“You’re absolutely right,” Obi-Wan said. “I hadn’t noticed before. I _did_ recognize that it was Threepio.”

“And you’d like some credit for that, I suppose,” Anakin teased, turning back to what he was doing. “I’d say that it was replaced around ten years ago, give or take about a year. Judging from the way it was fitted, I’d also wager than the leg was burned off, not sheared or torn. Likely with a laser saw.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, trying to see just how Anakin could get all that from the way the joints were fitted together.

“And… there, we’re done,” Anakin said, gracefully standing up again and then turning Threepio back on.

A moment passed, and then Threepio’s eyes lit up again.

“Master Anakin?” This time, Threepio’s uncertainty sounded as if it stemmed from something greater than not being sure of a name. “I’m… experiencing a bit of confusion.”

“It’ll be all right,” Anakin soothed, rubbing his hand over Threepio’s arm, gloved metal over gilded. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. “Just tell me what you remember.”

“Master Luke wanted me to go on a fact-finding mission with him,” Threepio said. “He wanted to find out more about his father… who is… you, sir, I do believe.”

“Yes, I know,” Anakin said. “What else? What was the last thing that happened before the confusion?”

“Senator Organa ordered that my mind be wiped!” Threepio said, in a tone of great shock. Obi-Wan winced despite himself. “And… Master Anakin, I’m afraid that I must inform you that Mistress Padmé has died.”

This time, it was Anakin who winced, though he seemed to rally himself quickly enough. “Do you know exactly _how_ that happened, Threepio?”

“In childbirth,” Threepio said, after a moment of consideration.

“Having them killed her,” Anakin whispered and Obi-Wan only barely resisted reaching out to comfort him.

“I’m not entirely sure that that’s the best way to look at the situation,” Threepio said.

“Yet not without its truth,” Obi-Wan said. Was this was what they had come here to discover? If so, perhaps Anakin’s attachment to Padmé could be useful in the end. No matter how much Anakin might grown to like his children in the time they had spent here, Obi-Wan was certain that Anakin could not possibly care more for them than he did Padmé.

“We can’t let it happen,” Anakin said, hoarsely. “We have to go back and stop it from happening.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said, very carefully resting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, feeling the tenseness of the muscles and how they relaxed, ever so slightly, at the continuation of Obi-Wan’s touch.

“But we need to know more,” Anakin said, stepping back and away from Threepio, towards Obi-Wan. “What else do I need to know, Threepio?”

“It’s a rather long story, sir,” Threepio said.

“Believe me when I say that we are _very_ interested,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin flashed a quick smile at Obi-Wan, eyes soft and grateful. “Start with… our return from the Hargoeth mission.”

“That’s a rather memorable one, actually,” Threepio said. “Master Anakin was _most_ displeased about that mission, and I can remember him complaining to Mistress Padmé that the Council was not taking his concerns seriously enough at all, despite Master Kenobi being rather badly injured…”

“Injured?” Anakin asked. “Injured how?”

“You didn’t say,” Threepio said. “And as the Chancellor decided in the end that Hargoeth wasn’t worth expending any more resources on, the subject became moot, though you and Mistress Padmé discussed it for over three weeks. Then there was a problem in the Outer Rim, and you and Master Kenobi were sent to deal with it…”


	19. Willow and Oak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Leia don't see the same thing when they look at Anakin.

“What happened?” Luke asked Leia, keeping his voice low, intensely aware that Han was only a door away and not entirely sure that this was a conversation that he wanted Han to hear.

Her hair was down, falling around her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was flushed, possibly from running here but more likely because of whatever had upset her.

As always, she was beautiful.

“He has this enormous blind spot about himself,” Leia said, her anger unmistakable. “And he wanted me to try to tell him about the world now, but without mentioning any of the bad parts.”

“Leia, he doesn’t know what happened,” Luke said. “He doesn’t know just how far he fell – how could he?”

“He should,” Leia said. “He’s dangerous. I can feel it, Luke, why can’t you? You felt his anger and his hate out there, when he didn’t know who we were.”

“That doesn’t mean-“ Luke started, but Leia cut him off, talking loudly enough that Han could probably hear her.

“It means that he’s a lot further down the path than _you’re_ willing to admit!”

“Not necessarily,” Luke said, keeping his voice down and glancing back at the closed door to the cockpit. “We both know that there’s good in him. He’s been saved before.”

“And you think it’ll be easier this time because... what, he’s younger?” Leia asked.

“When he sees the Temple…” Luke said, and Leia shuddered slightly. She hadn’t enjoyed that place any more than Luke had.

“If he understands what it means,” Leia said.

“He’s capable of understanding,” Luke said. “We just have to find a way to reach him.”

“Good luck,” Leia said, moving forward, wrapping her arms around Luke’s waist. Luke closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, allowing himself to indulge in the joy of their connection.

The intense love that he felt when he was near her, the love that had sprung up immediately after just seeing her hologram and had only strengthened once they’d met in person, was more powerful than anything that he’d ever felt in his life.

The first time that he’d seen her face, he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life near her – he’d known in that first moment that she was in his heart, that she was his heart. And he could understand why they’d both confused those feelings for romantic affection.

“You, too,” Luke said, pulling out of their embrace and brushing her hair out of her face.

“I’m _not_ trying to save him,” Leia said.

“Of course not,” Luke agreed, with a soft smile. “You don’t care at all.”

“Not in the slightest,” she said, leveling an imperious look at him before giving in and smiling back, reluctantly.

Luke glanced back towards the cockpit, where Han was radiating curiosity and frustration and then looked at Leia, and knew that she was sensing it, too.

“I’m going to go calm down Han,” Leia said. “I think he’s about to rupture something. Want to come with?”

“Actually, I wanted to try something before we reach the Temple,” Luke said. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Don’t take too long,” Leia said, and she lightly kissed Luke on the cheek before brushing past him and heading towards the door.

“I promise,” Luke said. Leia turned and gave him one last fond look before entering the cockpit.

Luke moved a little further away from the door, and tried to focus.

He could feel Obi-Wan and, more strongly, Anakin – they were involved in something that was taking up a lot of Anakin’s concentration, so Luke was probably safe for the moment.

“Obi-Wan, we really need to talk,” Luke said. He reached out with his thoughts, stretched out for any hint of Ben’s presence.

For several long minutes, there was absolutely nothing, but Luke refused to give up.

Finally, at the limits of his senses, he felt a tiny buzz, and one that was quickly hidden, as a shade is drawn over a window.

And even that little told him quite a lot.

Whatever was keeping Ben away wasn’t external – he was still _here_ , but actively choosing not to appear.

“Why, Ben?” Luke whispered. “What don’t you want to tell me this time?”

Luke let go of his focus, fading back into the world.

Anakin and Obi-Wan were still occupied with something and if Luke just walked to the end of the corridor, he’d be able to see them.

And the ship was rapidly approaching the Temple – Luke could feel it on the edges of his awareness, howling. The instant that Anakin let his focus widen, he’d sense it, too.

And that would do far more to convince Anakin of the truth than any words from Luke or Leia.


	20. What You Can Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin takes a chance.

“…which is when Mistress Padmé noticed that she was pregnant.”

Anakin shook off the odd feeling of dread that had been stealing up on him in last few minutes and focused on Threepio’s words.

“I wasn’t here when she found out?” Anakin asked, and the thought disturbed him.

“No, Master Anakin,” Threepio said. “You didn’t have a chance to come to Coruscant until almost four months later.”

“We were in the Outer Rim for five months,” Anakin said, disbelievingly. Even with all the turmoil that the war had caused so far, this sounded like a new level of chaos.

“No doubt we communicated with the Council regularly,” Obi-Wan said. “And perhaps we merely didn’t have time for casual visiting if we _did_ return to Coruscant on occasion.”

Anakin shot Obi-Wan an aggrieved look, but Obi-Wan actually seemed to be listening to Threepio, which was nothing short of astonishing.

Even more amazing was that his hand was still on Anakin’s shoulder. Even when Anakin had been young, Obi-Wan’s touches had always been rare and fleeting.

The only sustained contact they generally had was when Anakin was in the process of rescuing Obi-Wan, and even then, Obi-Wan always let go of Anakin the instant that he was safe.

Perhaps the difference was because Obi-Wan couldn’t connect with the Force – though Obi-Wan had never been physically affectionate, he’d constantly reached out to Anakin through the Force, reassured Anakin in that place beyond words or touch. Without the Force, perhaps Obi-Wan had found that he, not Anakin, had been the one who’d needed that connection so badly.

“Your movements were fairly well-known, after the fact, Master Kenobi. And Mistress Padmé watched the HoloNet daily,” Threepio said. “There were so many rumors, and so many unconfirmed casualty reports. Chancellor Palpatine announced that he disapproved and that he was trying to stop the more lurid ones from surfacing, but his efforts appeared to be largely unsuccessful. Mistress Padmé started voicing concerns that he wasn’t trying his hardest.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Obi-Wan said.

“Because you always believe the worst of any politician,” Anakin said, holding up his left hand to let Threepio know that he should stop talking for a while and let Anakin and Obi-Wan argue this out. “It’s one of your least pleasant character traits, Master.”

“Surely, I don’t _always_ believe the worst of politicians,” Obi-Wan said. “That’s hardly sensible.”

“You’ve never trusted Padmé,” Anakin said.

“Oh, yes, she _certainly_ wasn’t hiding anything from me,” Obi-Wan said, his voice sharp, his fingers tightening on Anakin’s shoulder for just a moment. “And she most definitely never lied about something that she might have reason to believe that I’d like to know, and something that, quite frankly, I did have the right to know.”

“Fine, fine, I get the point,” Anakin said.

“I’m not sure that you do,” Obi-Wan said. “No, I did _not_ trust her, and I was right not to.”

“Yet, you say that you still trust me,” Anakin pointed out.

“Anakin, do you really believe that you were hiding your feelings from me?” Obi-Wan asked. “We were both pretending that it wasn’t happening – I was deceiving myself as much as you were.”

“Does that lessen the deception?” Anakin said, reaching up and placing his right hand over Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder. The touch sensors under the glove registered Obi-Wan’s body heat as slightly above normal, though not at all dangerously so. “We both lied to you and it was my decision to keep… our relationship from you. Padmé _wanted_ to tell you, even though she thought it best to hide it from everyone else.”

“Anakin, is there something else that you aren’t telling me?” Obi-Wan asked, pulling his hand out from under Anakin’s.

“No,” Anakin said vehemently, turning towards Obi-Wan and reaching out to grab Obi-Wan’s wrist. Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin’s hand, and then back up at Anakin, brows drawn together and lips parted in surprise.

“I won’t be disappointed in you,” Obi-Wan said softly, showing no outward signs of stress, though his heartbeat had quickened.

“Yes, you will be,” Anakin said. He loosened his grip slightly, though not enough to allow Obi-Wan to pull away. “I know you will.”

“Just tell me,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin turned Obi-Wan’s wrist so that his hand was palm up, and pushed Obi-Wan’s sleeve back with his left hand, exposing blue veins and pale golden skin. When he glanced up at Obi-Wan’s face, Obi-Wan’s eyes told him nothing. Obi-Wan wasn’t afraid, that much was clear, but the rest of his emotions were veiled and while Anakin _could_ force his way in, Obi-Wan probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, and he felt oddly breathless, as if he were on a moon with a thin atmosphere. He had an idea of a way he could, perhaps, soften the blow.

On the outskirts of his narrowed focus, Anakin could feel something dark struggling to make itself known, but there was no control here, no mind. Just instinct, just the two of them, connecting on a level beyond anything the Council could understand.

He dropped his gaze back down at Obi-Wan’s wrist, finding it much easier to concentrate when he didn’t have to look Obi-Wan in the eyes. The sensors of his mechnical hand told him so many physical details – if he cared to, he could count the number of tiny hairs trapped under the glove at this moment – but it wasn’t enough.

“I’ve betrayed my vows to the Jedi Order,” Anakin said, touching the first two fingers of his left hand to the warmth of Obi-Wan’s wrist. Obi-Wan’s pulse jumped for a moment, and his breathing accelerated slightly.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, a note of warning in his voice, though he didn’t try to pull away.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, his voice slipping a tone or two down. Slowly, he slid his fingers down Obi-Wan’s wrist, through the small gap between Anakin’s thumb and fingers. Obi-Wan shivered as Anakin’s fingers reached the palm of his hand. “After Geonosis, when I escorted Padmé back to Naboo?”

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asked, and the tightness in his voice made Anakin look up again. Obi-Wan’s breathing remained steady, though it had quickened yet again, and his face remained a model of serenity. But he could feel the tension in Obi-Wan’s muscles and the effort that it took Obi-Wan to hide it. Experimentally, Anakin stroked his fingertips up again, past Obi-Wan’s wrist, slipping his fingers under the sleeve of Obi-Wan’s shirt.

Obi-Wan’s mouth opened in reaction, his eyes widening. Just a moment later, Obi-Wan had composed himself again, though Anakin could feel the trembling tension in Obi-Wan’s body.

“When Padmé and I returned to Naboo,” Anakin said, taking a step towards Obi-Wan, backing him towards the wall of the corridor. Obi-Wan glanced over Anakin’s shoulder, where Anakin had almost forgotten Threepio was. Obi-Wan should know better than to worry about that. Threepio always knew when to stay silent for Anakin.

Anakin took another step forward, and this time, Obi-Wan stepped back against the wall, his pulse racing wildly under Anakin’s touch.

“You and… you and Padmé,” Obi-Wan prompted, hesitantly. Anakin slid his hand out from under Obi-Wan’s sleeve, took another step forward, and pressed it against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck. He roughly stroked his thumb against Obi-Wan’s jawline, rubbing against the grain of Obi-Wan’s beard.

“We got married, there in Naboo,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan shook his head, slightly. Obi-Wan’s pupils were huge in the relative dimness of the ship and he was breathing in quick pants through parted lips. Anakin tilted his head down slightly, moving forward again, his body just a whisper away from Obi-Wan’s.

“Your commitment to the Order…” Obi-Wan said. He licked his lips nervously, and Anakin watched carefully, his own tongue unconsciously mimicking Obi-Wan’s.

“Is not the point,” Anakin said. He slid his hand around to the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. “My love for Padmé doesn’t have to involve the Order.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. “If you really love her, why-“

Anakin pressed his mouth against Obi-Wan’s, closing his eyes in concentration. Obi-Wan’s mouth was still open and Anakin took full advantage, slipping his tongue in, tasting Obi-Wan.

For a long moment, Obi-Wan remained frozen under his touch. Then Obi-Wan sighed, the breath of it swallowed up by Anakin’s mouth, and gave in.

The kiss was nothing like the first one that he’d shared with Padmé – Obi-Wan’s beard was rough against Anakin’s skin, and Obi-Wan’s mouth held none of Padmé's sweetness. And yet, in some ways, it was exactly the same.

This, too, was a kiss that he’d wanted for years.


	21. The Harder Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan knows that certain things are forbidden for good reason.

Obi-Wan’s universe was suddenly very small.

Anakin’s mechanical hand had tightened again, painfully so, but the warmth of Anakin’s real hand was pressing hard against the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, urging him forward, towards Anakin’s body, into Anakin’s kiss.

Obi-Wan had never allowed himself to wonder about this.

And, perhaps because of that, he was completely unprepared for Anakin’s kisses.

Because Anakin wasn’t content to attack Obi-Wan’s mouth – instead, he laid siege, pressing light kisses against Obi-Wan’s lips, licking up against and then into Obi-Wan’s mouth, and catching Obi-Wan’s lower lip in his teeth when he retreated again.

Anakin constantly shifted tactics, as if trying to keep Obi-Wan off-guard. As if this were just another sparring match.

But then Anakin pushed up hard against Obi-Wan and even through the layers of fabric, it was clear that Anakin wasn’t playing games.

Anakin’s hand slid down the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, slowly stroking his fingers over Obi-Wan’s skin. Obi-Wan leaned into the touch, pulling away from Anakin’s mouth.

He opened his eyes slowly, meeting Anakin’s gaze head-on.

Anakin’s eyes were dark and needy, as much a handcuff as the metal hand still wrapped around Obi-Wan’s left wrist. His face was flushed and the wet gloss of his mouth was far too inviting.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. His free hand ached to rest on his lightsaber, to turn this into a true duel, something that they could both walk away from intact. “Any distraction will only work for so long, and then you still have to deal with the original problem.”

“This isn’t a distraction,” Anakin said. “It’s a solution.”

Anakin smiled hopefully, his gaze flicking down to Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“No, it isn’t,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up and pressing two fingers against Anakin’s parted lips. Anakin’s breath was hot against Obi-Wan’s fingertips, testing Obi-Wan’s resolve. “You’re avoiding the issue, Anakin, and I won’t have that.”

Anakin’s lips pressed together in an unmistakable pout. Obi-Wan winced inwardly at this further evidence of Anakin’s emotional youth. To take advantage of that, to allow Anakin to take this easier road, would be a betrayal of everything that Obi-Wan had tried to be to him.

He pulled his hand away from Anakin’s tempting mouth and reached over to tap the dark material of Anakin’s sleeve, just above where the mechanical arm integrated into Anakin’s nervous system.

“Let go of me,” Obi-Wan said softly. Anakin’s gaze fell to where he still gripped Obi-Wan’s wrist, and it was as if he only now realized how tight his hold had become, and his hand fell open immediately, releasing Obi-Wan. Anakin pulled his other hand away from Obi-Wan’s neck almost as quickly.

Then he backed away, but not far, his body still close enough that the edges of his cloak brushed up against Obi-Wan.

“I know that you want me, I can feel it,” Anakin said, and his voice, as always, held no malice, only simple confusion. Anakin reached out with his left hand, brushing the back of his hand lightly over Obi-Wan’s wrist, easing the ache slightly with his touch and likely a touch of the Force as well. “I won’t… I’ll pay more attention to what I’m doing from now on.”

“Anakin, this isn’t about being careful,” Obi-Wan said, his exasperation bleeding over into his voice. “This is about one of the central tenets of the Jedi Code.”

“There is no passion,” Anakin said with a twist to his mouth, lifting defiant eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s. “Only serenity.”

“Can you claim that what just happened had anything to do with achieving serenity?” Obi-Wan asked, allowing his voice to slip into the measured tones that annoyed Anakin so much. “Anakin, I know that the bond between Master and Padawan can be intense, but it isn’t meant to turn into this.”

“You’re not my master anymore,” Anakin said, reaching up and rubbing his forehead, looking away from Obi-Wan.“We may not be equals yet, not in the eyes of the Council, but…”

Then Anakin backed away another step, his hand falling to his lightsaber.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan asked.

“We’re close to a source of great pain,” Anakin said, a distant, troubled look on his face. “So much betrayal… so much loss. It’s everywhere. But there’s something else wrong… something…”

“I can’t feel anything,” Obi-Wan reminded Anakin, moving forward to place his hand on Anakin’s arm, to give Anakin something to center himself with.

“Threepio,” Obi-Wan said, looking past Anakin. The protocol droid was already looking at them, which Obi-Wan carefully decided not to find disturbing. “Fetch Luke, bring him here.”

“Certainly, sir,” Threepio said, hurrying towards the corridor that led to the cockpit. It turned around for a moment, looking at Obi-Wan. “Oh, I do hope that Master Anakin will be all right!”

Then it moved into the corridor, a droid on a mission.

“As do I,” Obi-Wan whispered.

But Anakin’s breathing was already steadying.

He looked up, his gaze locking onto Obi-Wan’s, and even under the pain, that longing had remained. Obi-Wan was acutely aware that this wasn’t over. As a trained fighter, Anakin was very persistent when he sensed a weakness.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said.

“Not now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes, Luke will be here soon,” Anakin said. “I know.”

“We’ll be able to find out what’s happened and how to fix it,” Obi-Wan said, firmly.

“And you’ll pretend that this never happened,” Anakin said, scornfully. "That you didn't kiss me back."

“That _would_ be the smart thing to do,” Obi-Wan said.

“And when have we ever done that?” Anakin asked.

Then Anakin glanced over at other corridor and moved away from Obi-Wan, leaving them in a relatively uncompromising position.

A moment later, Luke arrived with Threepio, leaning against the droid slightly.

“We’ve arrived at the Temple,” Luke said. “Now, Obi-Wan, as far as I could tell, the databanks were wiped clean. But I couldn’t stay for long, so I don’t know if I just didn’t get the chance to look hard enough.”

“Why couldn’t you stay?” Obi-Wan asked.

“The screaming,” Anakin said grimly.

“It is a little distracting,” Luke said.

“Perhaps I should be the only one to go, then,” Obi-Wan said. “As I can’t hear it.”

“No,” Anakin and Luke said in unison. Anakin glared at Luke, who shrugged.

“Without the Force, you’re vulnerable,” Anakin said. “I’m not going to let you go anywhere without me.”

“Anakin, I _can_ defend myself, even without the Force,” Obi-Wan said.

“He’s right, though,” Luke said. “You can’t sense danger coming.”

Apparently, over-protectiveness was hereditary.

“I do still have all my other senses,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m hardly helpless.”

“Master,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin’s pleading expression and knew that he’d already lost this battle. Certainly, he could order Anakin to stay behind, but what use would that serve except to make Anakin even more sulky and uncooperative? And that was if Anakin bothered to listen to him, of course. Half of the times that Anakin had saved Obi-Wan’s life had been against Obi-Wan’s direct orders.

“Yes, fine, you can come,” Obi-Wan said. “Luke?”

“Yes,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan was mildly and briefly annoyed at how relieved Luke looked.

“It’s entirely possible that access to the records was blocked, but that the records themselves are intact,” Obi-Wan said. “Only a Master can erase information from the archives and I doubt even a Master would be able to wipe the archives entirely.”

“Ah, sir, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Threepio said. Obi-Wan shot the droid a questioning look. “But it may help to know that Master Anakin was appointed to the Council before he became Darth Vader. He may have had clearance.”

“How do you know that?” Luke asked, straightening up and staring down at Threepio.

“Master Anakin brought my memory back!” Threepio said. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“He… what?” Luke said, dumbstruck. “ _How_?”

“Anakin’s good with machines,” Obi-Wan said, lightly. “Always has been. It really isn’t relevant, though.”

“I suppose not,” Luke said. “I just… I didn’t know that it was possible.”

“Anything’s possible,” Anakin said, flashing Luke a quick grin. “You just have to be willing to take risks.”

“Though we should keep in mind that not all risks are worth taking,” Obi-Wan said repressively.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said dutifully, but the heated look he gave Obi-Wan was anything but dutiful and it confirmed Obi-Wan’s earlier concerns. Apparently, not even the presence of his own child would stop Anakin from pushing.

Luke was watching them with narrowed eyes, but he didn’t say anything. If the mental noise from the Temple was as distracting as Luke claimed it was, it was likely that Luke hadn’t picked up on Anakin’s desires.

Well, Obi-Wan could hope.

And he could almost hear Master Yoda now – _projecting desires into the future, hope is. Careful you should be when doing this. Hope too easily becomes disappointment, when the future turns out differently than we wish it to be. Meditate on this, you should._

“And is Leia coming as well?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Apparently, she’s going to go down into the city core with Han,” Luke said. “Threepio, maybe you should stay on the ship, too.”

“Master Anakin?” Threepio asked. Luke looked surprised at that, just for a moment. Apparently, he hadn’t yet realized that the return of Threepio’s memories had changed other things as well.

“It’s all right, Threepio,” Anakin said. “You can look after Leia while we’re gone.”

“Very well, sir,” Threepio said.

“Maybe you should stay here, too,” Anakin said, clearly talking to Luke, even though he wasn’t quite looking at him. “This place really seems to be affecting you.”

“I can handle it,” Luke said.

“He’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan said, pushing away from the wall and heading down to the corridor that he believed went to the entrance of the ship.

“There’s no hurry,” Luke said, half a step behind Obi-Wan. “If we do find a way to get you back to your own time, we should be able to get you to exactly when you left, right?”

“We don’t _know_ that, Luke,” Obi-Wan said.

“And it’s ‘when’, not ‘if’,” Anakin said, from Obi-Wan’s other side. “If getting here is possible, getting back has to be.”

“Not necessarily,” Luke said.

“Right, we’ll just keep all the possibilities in mind,” Obi-Wan said, quickening his steps just a little. Not that it helped -- both Luke and Anakin easily kept pace with him. At least they kept silent the rest of the way.

Leaving the ship was a bit of a blessing – the enviromentals had been off, just a little, and the inside of the ship had been starting to smell just a bit like burnt oxygen.

Once he was finally off the ship, Obi-Wan had to pause to drink in the sight of the Temple.

Luke was right, it was completely deserted, and it looked even larger without the hordes of Jedi and younglings that were normally hovering around at this time of day. But he couldn’t see any damage from where he stood, only the majesty of the ancient entrance pillars, and the massive, yet graceful bulk of the building itself, almost completely blocking out the sky.

Even knowing what had happened, knowing that it was nothing more than a tomb, couldn't change the way just seeing the Temple could lighten Obi-Wan's heart.

Then he heard Anakin throw up.

Luke was bent over, clearly fighting nausea, while Anakin had lost the fight and was kneeling on the ground, skin pale and eyes reddened.

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell, but hurried over and slid a supportive arm around Anakin’s back, helping him to stand up again.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to go back to the ship?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, I can handle this,” Anakin said, though he didn’t push away from Obi-Wan. “I just need a moment to adjust.”

“It gets worse the longer you stay,” Luke warned.

“Now we do have a reason to hurry,” Obi-Wan said, pulling Anakin along with him. “And if you two slow me down, just remember that I _did_ offer to come alone.”


	22. The Archives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke learns something new and Obi-Wan finds something old.

Something else had shifted between those two.

Luke lagged a few steps between Obi-Wan and Anakin, watching them carefully.

Most often, Obi-Wan was clearly in control, as he was now, supporting Anakin as they made their way to the Temple. Obi-Wan held some level of authority over Anakin, even though Anakin apparently wasn’t his student anymore, but back on the ship, Anakin had shown that he was fully willing to override Obi-Wan’s wishes.

Luke may have known more about his father than Leia had, but he hadn’t been expecting _this_ Anakin. Like Leia, he couldn’t quite understand how Anakin had become Darth Vader – he was volatile and dangerous when threatened, but he was also very much on the side of the Jedi.

No, Luke thought, remembering Anakin's first appearance – Anakin was clearly very fond of _Obi-Wan_.

They weren’t, on reflection, anything close to the same thing.

Here, now, Luke could tell that Anakin had recovered enough from his initial bout with nausea that he could easily walk on his own, but Anakin was showing no sign of that to Obi-Wan. Instead, he continued to lean against Obi-Wan’s arm, as if he wouldn’t be able to stand up otherwise.

And Anakin himself was a dizzyingly blur of emotions that shifted so quickly and constantly that Luke had a hard time picking any one feeling out of the chaotic din. Concern for Obi-Wan was one thing that had remained constant all this time, though it varied in strength from moment to moment.

While Obi-Wan’s concentration was focused on the area around them, probably noticing the scorch marks on the ground, Anakin’s attention appeared to be resting wholly on Obi-Wan.

They’d reached the broad steps of the entrance now, and Obi-Wan had slowed down – there was more damage here. Almost half of the ninth step was stained with dark patches of purplish-blue. Luke hadn’t been able to figure out what had caused it.

Obi-Wan stopped there, had a quick, whispered conversation with Anakin that Luke didn’t quite hear, but that made the emotional glow around Anakin shimmer with frustration. Anakin pulled away from Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan knelt on the steps, pressing his fingertips against one of the marks.

“Do you know what it is?” Luke asked.

“It’s residue from Kli’imk powder,” Anakin answered, distastefully. “It’s illegal.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Luke said.

“It’s also extremely rare. It was banned with extreme prejudice over twenty years ago... twenty years in my time. It _does_ explain the effect that this place is having on the two of you,” Obi-Wan said, standing up again and wiping off his hands. “Kli’imk powder amplifies and sustains an emotional feeling long after it would naturally fade from an area. And to use so much…”

“They wanted anyone Force-sensitive to stay far away,” Anakin said, putting his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Master, now that I know what’s causing the intensity, I’ll have a better chance of pushing it away.”

“Possibly,” Obi-Wan said, glancing over his shoulder at Anakin, who immediately pulled his hand away. “But for now, let’s just take it one step at a time, shall we?”

“Why was it illegal?” Luke asked.

“Both its creation and use were deemed immoral,” Obi-Wan said, moving up the steps again. “Still, it was a preferred drug for years, as most people are at least a little Force-sensitive, though it fell out of favor when deathsticks became the rage.”

Obi-Wan moved towards a main entrance pillar and rubbed his fingers along a blaster mark.

“Deathsticks?” Luke asked.

“I know, it’s _such_ a silly name,” Obi-Wan said. “You’d think that that would turn people off, but you’d be wrong. It’s insanely popular, despite its crudeness. Well, you know how it is.”

“Not really,” Luke said.

“People want the easy fix,” Obi-Wan said, moving away from the pillar and into the Temple, Luke and Anakin following. “Deathsticks give an incredible and fast-acting high, but the toll that they take on the mind in the long run is simply devastating.”

“Obi-Wan has a limited amount of patience for the weak-willed,” Anakin said, softly.

“Well, I’m not sure that that’s true,” Obi-Wan said, leading them off to the left. The simple fact that Obi-Wan knew where he was going should save them all some time.

“Master, the last time that we ran into a deathstick seller, you ‘suggested’ that he turn himself in,” Anakin said.

“I was doing him a favor,” Obi-Wan said. “Giving him a chance to clean up his life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“He ended up at the Temple the next morning, trying to confess his crimes to Master Windu!” Anakin said.

“Wait, what does this have to do with… Kli’imk powder being illegal?” Luke asked.

“Ah, nothing,” Obi-Wan said. “Didn’t I already explain about that?”

“No, you skipped past that part,” Anakin said.

“Well, I suppose that I did,” Obi-Wan said. “There really isn’t much to say, after all. The Senate found out that it was made from the bones of a sentient, intelligent species, and called for it to be declared an illegal substance. The movement passed with a slight majority and, well, that was that. All known manufacturing sites were shut down and the planet of origin was declared forbidden.”

“A _slight_ majority?” Luke asked.

“The Trade Federation and their cronies all voted against the ban, naturally,” Obi-Wan said. “Being caught smuggling an illegal substance carries far greater fines than being found with one that is merely deemed dangerous.”

“Naboo voted in favor of the ban, of course,” Anakin said.

“Yes, yes, of course they did,” Obi-Wan said, turning down a corridor and Luke was surprised to notice a note of condescension in his voice. He’d never heard Obi-Wan use that particular tone before. It was… disconcerting, and this place itself was bad enough.

For Luke, the empty halls around them rang with noise. Betrayal hung heavy in the air, and fear whispered in between the cracks. Every hallway they passed seemed to hold its own set of voices, calling out for aid that had never arrived and spitting out words of surprise and pain.

While the bodies had been moved long ago, all the marks and damage of that last battle remained.

Anakin seemed to draw more tightly into himself as they walked, his gaze still fixed on Obi-Wan ahead. Occasionally, he would glance into a corridor and wince. Once, Luke saw him mouth something that looked like a name.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was glancing around constantly, though his course was sure and unwavering.

Finally, Obi-Wan’s steps slowed.

“This is the closest entrance,” Obi-Wan said, stopping by an entranceway. Obi-Wan locked gazes with Anakin. “Don’t take what we find to heart, Anakin. Remember that you always have a choice.”

“So do you,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan nodded slightly, and then headed into the room.

Luke winced when he saw the inside – he hadn’t gotten this far in his own exploration of the Temple, so the state of the room came as a nasty surprise.

The room was cold and dark, and there were several bronze busts on the floor, near shattered pillars of marble. Some of the terminals had been ripped out of the long tables and were lying in pieces.

This hadn’t been done to disable the room – as far as Luke could tell, no one had even bothered to turn off the power, since a few of the surviving screens flickered weakly.

The dominant feeling in the room was one of anger and… it felt familiar. Luke glanced over at Anakin and wasn’t surprised to see him looking pale and sick again.

Obi-Wan merely picked his way around the wreckage, heading not for one of the screens that seemed to be undamaged, but the center of the left wall.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked Anakin.

“Fine,” Anakin said, but his hands were in tight fists at his sides.

“Look, we both know that you’re the one who did this,” Luke said. “We can feel it. It can’t be easy for you and I just wanted-“

“No,” Anakin said. “Obi-Wan’s right. I’m not the person who did this. And I’ll make certain that I never am.”

“I just doubt that it’s that simple,” Luke said.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s voice rang out and Luke knew that the moment was lost. “I need your help.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, glancing over at Luke before turning and hurrying over to Obi-Wan, who was kneeling on the floor, apparently trying to pry away part of the wall. When Anakin reached him, Obi-Wan shuffled out of the way. With a quick gesture, Anakin used the Force to pull out the segment of the wall. Behind it, Luke could see glowing cables embedded within the wall, and they gave off flickers of Force-energy as well as normal light.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, leaning forward. He ran his fingers over the cables. “Anakin, can you tell what’s wrong with these? I can only see that something _is_ wrong.”

Anakin dropped to his knees next to Obi-Wan, their shoulders touching.

“Someone switched the primary and secondary,” Anakin said. “Anyone who isn’t an expert in Force engineering would just sense that the connection had been disrupted, that power was getting through, but not enough. They wouldn’t know how easy it is to fix.”

 

“That’s a good sign, then,” Obi-Wan said.

“And you _did_ need me,” Anakin said.

“Just switch the cords back, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, standing up. “You can save the self-satisfaction for later.”

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan and smiled easily. After a moment, Obi-Wan turned away, moving across the room towards an unbroken terminal. Anakin’s smile widened and then he turned towards the cables.

Luke glanced between Obi-Wan and Anakin, not sure why Anakin’s mood had improved so much just because of that exchange. Obi-Wan hadn't even been particularly nice.

“Yes, that’s worked,” Obi-Wan said, a moment later. And the screen was bright with color now, scrolling quickly through what looked like a test sequence. “It should be ready soon.”

“We’ll want to look up just what happened after Hargoeth,” Anakin said. “Threepio said that you were injured, it has to be related to what happened to us.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said, not looking away from the screen. “The last thing that I can remember is Minister Julroth telling me that his people had something better than the Republic for protection. I asked to see what it was, and then I woke up here.”

“I saw you, lying on the ground, unconscious,” Anakin said, his voice thick with emotion. “I was trying to get to you when… whatever happened, happened.”

“Ah, the link is up,” Obi-Wan said quickly, sounding a little relieved. “I’ll just access our reports, then.”

Then Obi-Wan let out a startled breath.

“What is it?” Luke asked, moving closer.

“It’s… a message,” Obi-Wan said. “And it’s from Anakin.”


	23. Love and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gets to know himself a little better.

“Aren’t you going to play it?” Anakin asked. He didn’t rush over to Obi-Wan and he didn’t even look to see how Obi-Wan was reacting. Instead, he concentrated on placing the panel back in place, sealing up the edges so that it would again be invisible to anyone who didn’t already know it was there.

“It appears to be audio only,” Obi-Wan said.

There was a slight rush of static as the message opened.

At first, there was just the low buzz of ambient noise – even when Anakin concentrated, he couldn’t make out any distinct sounds.

Then, there was a hissing intake of breath, the sound of air being forced through a mechanical breather. Breathers were a last resort, like Anakin’s right arm, used only when the tissue involved was missing or irreparably damaged.

It wasn’t, all things considered, a particularly good sign.

 _“It was unwise of you to return here.”_

The voice was deep and resonant, clearly filtered through vocal harmonizers. It didn’t sound anything like Anakin, but somehow, he still knew that it was his own voice.

 _“The war is over and you have lost.”_

Anakin’s left hand curled around a fragment of stone, tightening until he could feel it biting into his skin.

 _“If you stay, I **will** find you.”_

There was anger in this room, and hate.

But there was also… regret. A deep, pained longing that wasn’t entirely masked by the flashes of anger that wound around every toppled pillar.

 _“I will not underestimate you again.”_

Anakin twisted around, leaning back against the wall, finally looking over at Obi-Wan and Luke. Obi-Wan was bent forward in his seat, hand stroking over his beard, a familiar look of intent focus on his face. Luke was standing very close to Obi-Wan, one hand on the table next to the screen.

Anakin couldn’t imagine hating Obi-Wan. It was like thinking that he could ever hate Padmé or… or his mother. There had been times, even recently, when he’d wanted nothing more than to hold Obi-Wan down and force him to _see_ that Anakin had grown up, that he was worthy, but that had nothing to do with hate.

 _“Leave while you still have the chance, old man.”_

The message clicked off and the room was filled with silence.

Anakin’s eyes slid shut and he saw the room as it had been the last time that he’d seen it – Obi-Wan had dragged him in to show him Master Nallick’s report on the mining disputes on Mustafar. Obi-Wan had insisted that there was something wrong, something that the Council hadn’t seen.

That was an unusual position for Obi-Wan to take, so Anakin had been interested enough, even though, in the end, Obi-Wan’s lead hadn’t panned out. The agreements had been easily settled by the Chancellor’s direct intercession and no further Jedi involvement had been deemed necessary.

The room had been relatively full that day -- Archivist Nu had had her hands full with a group of younglings, all seeking information on the Starforger dynasty. One of Master Yoda’s little games, setting them all to search out knowledge on the same subject, knowing that they would completely throw the Archivist’s day out of balance, forcing her to take the time to reconnect with the Force on a deeper level.

Master Yoda had told Anakin once that the Jedi needed to be shaken out of their complacency on a regular basis or they would stagnate. It had been one of their few points of agreement.

On that particular day, Obi-Wan had been sitting over near the doorway, just past the bust of Master Korja Yu’ung, thought to be the creator of the first lightsaber. Anakin had been leaning over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, resisting the urge to hop up and sit on the table only because Archivist Nu would have noticed in an instant and rushed over to scold him.

It had been a good day – Obi-Wan had been intensely involved in his theory, pointing out the inconsistencies of the report with an excitement that he generally only exhibited in the heat of battle.

But the soft warmth of the memory couldn’t withstand the waves of anger and hate that were sloshing messily around the room, and Anakin found that the vision in his mind was shifting.

Now, he saw Archivist Nu, sprawled on the floor, her lightsaber rolling out of a now-limp hand. She was marked by dozens of blaster wounds, and even though he’d known that she’d been dead after the fourth hit, he hadn’t stopped the soldiers from continuing to shoot.

She’d been protecting a group of younglings, the ones old enough to be Padawans, but not chosen yet.

And because of him, none of them ever would be.

Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s presence near him and he opened his eyes slowly. Obi-Wan was crouched in front of him, looking at him with concern. He latched onto Obi-Wan’s calm, hoping that it would be enough to quiet the fear in his heart.

“What are you sensing?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Hate. Fear. Anger, and… suffering,” Anakin said. All emotions that led straight to the dark side. “And they’re from me.”

“Do you have any sense of _why_?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No,” Anakin said hoarsely. “And it doesn’t make sense, Master.”

“None of this is making any sense, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out and placing a hand on Anakin’s knee. “We haven’t discovered the key yet. Once we do, hopefully things will fall into place.”

“And we’ll be able to fix things when we get back home,” Anakin said.

“What, exactly, are you planning to fix?” Luke asked. Anakin glanced up, startled – he’d almost forgotten that the boy was there at all.

“I’ll save your mother,” Anakin said. “I already know how to do that. And perhaps if we talk to Chancellor Palpatine-“

“Actually, that won’t help much,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s on the wrong side, apparently.”

“What?”

“I believe that Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord that we’ve been looking for,” Obi-Wan said. There was a certain unnecessary smugness to his tone, despite the way he was clearly trying to be compassionate.

“I don’t…” Anakin paused, trying to fit that into his view of Palpatine. “He’s been nothing but a friend to me, Master. He’s not a monster.”

“Perhaps not,” Obi-Wan said. “I myself had been wondering for some time if he was being used by the Sith, against his knowledge. But he’s too clever to just be someone else’s pawn, we both know that.”

“He’s always been a friend,” Anakin protested again, but weakly. In this room, surrounded by the voices of the dead, he could feel the truth of the accusation. “He has supported me through everything, encouraged me whenever I faltered.”

“And you ended up falling to the dark side,” Obi-Wan said, not unkindly. “The two things may be related.”

“Palpatine does become the Emperor,” Luke said softly. “And you serve under him, enforcing his rule.”

“Doing all those terrible things that your sister accused me of,” Anakin said, looking away from them and finding himself staring into the accusing eyes of Master Naelia Juaru, who’d died fighting the Sith a thousand years ago. She’d been the last great general of the Jedi, before the Clone War had begun and created new ones. “I betrayed the Order.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“I betrayed you,” Anakin said, voice trembling. “And I still don’t know _why_!”

“Anakin, look at me,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin shook his head, helplessly. “Look at me.”

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan’s hand, warm and strong on Anakin’s knee.

Obi-Wan’s hands summed him up, in a way, their power and grace apparent only on close inspection. On first glance, they were just hands, but the more Anakin looked at them, at the light dusting of hair, the lines of the knuckles, and the reassuring imperfection of the bitten-down nails, the more complex and… beautiful they seemed to be.

“You _will_ look at me, my Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, his voice sharpening.

With a start, Anakin’s gaze shot up.

“I’m not your Padawan anymore,” Anakin said, faintly.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Obi-Wan said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Master, I should have had more control,” Anakin said.

“You’ve received more nasty shocks over the last few hours than anyone should get in a lifetime,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve earned the right to decompress. But we can choose a place a little less likely to induce complete depression, I think.”

Anakin nodded, still a little shaky. Obi-Wan held out a hand to Anakin. Anakin placed his right hand in Obi-Wan’s and let Obi-Wan help him to stand.

“The mission reports?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan held up his other hand, revealing a data chip for a moment before he slipped it into a pouch. “Then we can leave?”

“I think that that would be a good idea, yes,” Obi-Wan said. He reached out towards Anakin, taking his left hand, and Anakin realized that he was still holding a piece of rubble. Obi-Wan slowly pried Anakin’s fingers away from the rock and Anakin gasped as his palm tingled. The rock tumbled to the floor and blood welled up in several tiny, uneven puncture wounds. Obi-Wan gently wiped Anakin’s hand clean with the pale sleeve of his tunic, pressing the fabric over Anakin’s palm to stop the bleeding.

“We can look those reports over in a safe place,” Luke said.

Anakin glanced over at Luke – he was looking at them with a very carefully guarded expression. Anakin hadn’t yet had a chance to figure Luke out, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he should try.

It might not be a very good idea to get to know Luke.

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said, releasing Anakin’s hand. Anakin let his hand fall to his side, tightening it into a fist again. “And am I to assume that you know such a place?"

“The headquarters of the New Republic are pretty close, only a few minutes by air cab,” Luke said. “And I can talk to an old friend while we’re there.”

“And after we look over those reports, perhaps you can tell us more about your New Republic,” Obi-Wan said. “I find that I am extremely interested in just how it came to be. And perhaps there will be someone there who has a better idea of just what happened to cause the Republic to fall.”

“Leia told me that our leader, Mon Mothma, used to be a senator in the old Republic,” Luke offered.

“We’ve met, actually,” Obi-Wan said, a speculative look on his face. “She moved in the same circles as Senators Organa and Amidala.”

“Padmé likes her,” Anakin offered. “I don’t remember meeting her, though I’m sure that I must have.”

“Yes, she may be able to tell us a great deal,” Obi-Wan said, heading back towards the entrance of the room. “And it will be interesting to see how she reacts when she recognizes us.”

“You’re so certain that she will?” Luke asked.

“Oh, she’ll remember us,” Anakin said, as he and Luke followed Obi-Wan back out of the Temple. “We were the best-known faces in the Republic, next to the Chancellor himself.”

A wave of voices and the whisper of blaster shots washed over Anakin from a nearby corridor, and he hurried his steps.

All his life, Anakin had wanted a million things, all at once. But in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to walk in the Temple and be surrounded by his fellow Jedi.

To hear Master Yoda speak words of disguised wisdom, or listen the suspicious rumble of Master Windu’s constant reprimands. To have Jurun Kamoian ask him for sparring sessions or Archivist Nu take him by the ear and chide him for speaking too loudly.

 

He wanted to reach out to Obi-Wan with the Force and have his Master reach back to him.

Instead, he was besieged by the trapped memories of the accusing dead, and they refused to stay silent.

As a child, he had heard some space traders talk of an idea of a place called ‘hell’. It wasn’t anything the Jedi believed in, but he’d done some research on it when he was thirteen and trying to find a word for new feelings that he was experiencing.

Obi-Wan had eventually, hesitatingly, explained that the changes he was going through were a natural part of his lifecycle, and nothing to be ashamed of.

Still, at thirteen, losing control of his body had seemed to fit the idea of unbearable torment.

At twenty-two, he had thought he had a better idea of what torment was – a battle that seemed more pointless by the day, deceiving one of the most important people in his life, and taking on the frustrating task of trying to satisfy the Jedi Council. On top of that, he’d still been struggling with his grief for his mother and with overcoming the limitations of his new arm.

He’d thought that that was hell because he hadn’t realized how much more there was to lose.

Just yesterday, he’d been a hero of the Republic, married to the strongest, most beautiful woman in the universe, and half of the most skilled and powerful Jedi pairing ever known.

But here, and now, Padmé was dead, Palpatine was a Sith, the Jedi Order had fallen, and all of it was laid at his feet.

Now, he finally knew the true meaning of that word, ‘hell’.


	24. Immortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Luke each find out something new about the Jedi.

Every step out of the Temple tested Obi-Wan’s resolve.

Eventually, he paused at the mouth of a long corridor that he knew wound along the edges of the building, connecting with every balcony on this level. A stone had fallen from the middle of the archway and was in pieces on the floor of the hall. Each of the stones had had a single letter carved on it, and together the letters had formed a name.

This used to be the doorway of Mahrehi Khunaul, Jedi Knight.

The archways were so high, and the lettering so old and worn, that even the Jedi sometimes had difficulty reading the names. Perhaps even the Jedi wouldn’t have been able to read them, if they didn’t already know that they were there.

For some reason, the thought made Obi-Wan uneasy, and he moved past the next archways quickly.

He glanced back to check on Anakin, who was soldiering on, head down. The Temple had been Anakin’s home as well, though not his favored one. Still, Anakin had been fond of it, enough to speak longingly of seeing the Temple gardens again when they were on missions. Seeing it like this couldn’t be easy on him, even without counting in the impact of the emotional echoes.

“Obi-Wan,” Luke said, jogging up to walk at Obi-Wan’s side. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes, Luke,” Obi-Wan prompted. “Go right ahead.”

“Back inside, Anakin said that he’s not your… Padawan anymore,” Luke said. “Is that the same as an apprentice?”

“I didn’t mention that to you, either, I suppose?” Obi-Wan asked. “It is, after a fashion. It’s strictly a Jedi term – you’d never speak of an artisan’s apprentice or a scholar's student as being a Padawan.”

“You know, it sounds like you skipped over a lot in your lessons,” Luke said. That much certainly seemed to be true. Background and vocabulary had been the first things that he’d taught Anakin, much to Anakin’s obvious distress. He couldn’t imagine just how he’d managed to train Luke without mentioning basic Jedi history.

“So it would seem,” Obi-Wan said. “Luke, just how much time did you spend as my apprentice?”

“Well, that depends,” Luke said. They were walking between the entrance pillars now – they’d spent rather more time inside than Obi-Wan had thought, as the sun was already sinking down below the city-line. Luke seemed particularly suited to sunset, his profile limned vermilion.

“I’m afraid that I don’t follow you,” Obi-Wan said.

“From the time that I ran into you on Tatooine to the time you died, well, it was really only a matter of days,” Luke said. “But you didn’t stop teaching me after that.”

“I’ve taught you since my death?” Obi-Wan asked, stopping on the steps. “And how, exactly, did I manage that?”

“You came back to me, to teach me the other things that I needed to know,” Luke said, putting a hand on Obi-Wan’s right arm.

“After I _died_ , I came back to you?” Obi-Wan asked.

“That’s not one of those Jedi things?” Luke asked.

“No.” Obi-Wan said. There was a bit of an awkward silence before Obi-Wan ventured a hopeful thought. “Perhaps I faked my death?”

“No, you really did die,” Luke said. "Lightsaber battle." There was another uncomfortable lull in the conversation.

“Master, are you all right?” Anakin asked, coming up on his other side. They’d likely been talking too quietly for Anakin to hear the details, but Anakin _would_ have noticed Obi-Wan’s surprise.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, carefully pulling his arm away from Luke. “Apparently, I’ll be fine even if I die.”

“What?” Anakin asked.

“Obi-Wan,” Luke said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not _upset_ ,” Obi-Wan corrected. “I’m _confused_.”

“I thought it was… a special Jedi thing,” Luke said.

“Yes, because cheating death is what the Jedi Order is all about,” Obi-Wan said. “We specialize in destroying the natural order of the universe. Next up, I plan on causing a premature supernova. Want to come and watch?”

Luke flinched, a little. Anakin just looked concerned and a bit confused.

“What are you talking about?" Anakin asked.

“Ask Luke,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin glanced over at Luke, storm clouds in his eyes. The sunset was _not_ so kind to Anakin as it was to Luke – it always made him look rather unbalanced and a little shady, to be perfectly honest. Anakin always looked better, healthier, under a central light source, like the midday sun.

“He’s upset that he guides me after his own death,” Luke said.

“He survives his own death?” Anakin asked, and his right, gloved hand was on Obi-Wan’s left arm now, as he stared at Luke with undisguised fascination.

“Well, he’s not the same, not _flesh_ , more like a form of energy,” Luke said. “I’d just assumed that that was what becoming part of the Force meant.”

“Becoming part of the Force is the same for all creatures, Jedi included,” Obi-Wan said, firmly. “It’s about being absorbed back into the fabric of life, becoming one and whole with the source of that life.”

“Can’t you do that and still retain the form of who you were in life?” Luke asked.

“Well, so you claim,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’ve never heard of such a thing. There are tales of Sith seeking immortality, but that is not a desire of the Jedi Order. The only reason that I can think of to seek to live beyond your time is if you do _not_ trust in the Force.”

“But perhaps it is possible, Master,” Anakin said. “If you… if _you’re_ the one who succeeded, it can’t be evil. You would never betray the spirit of the Order.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “But you give me too much credit.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Luke said. “Yoda, the Jedi Master that you sent me to after your death, also appeared to me, and so did my… so did Anakin.”

“There’s a way to transcend death,” Anakin said, sounding almost reverent. "And I learn how."

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Obi-Wan said, Anakin’s words making him feel more than a little uneasy. “Luke, if you would call for that air cab?”

Luke glanced between the two of them, his gaze lingering on Anakin.

“Luke, please,” Obi-Wan said. Luke nodded, slowly, and continued down the steps. Soon, he was far enough away that Obi-Wan and Anakin could speak with some degree of privacy.

“Master, I know what you’re going to say,” Anakin said, the words seeming to tumble right out of him. “Attachment to life is as dangerous as any other attachment. But this sounds like something new, something different. Somehow, in the future, you’re going to discover the true path to immortality. I can’t see that as wrong.”

“How could it be the will of the Force?” Obi-Wan asked.

“How could you do it at all without the aid of the Force?” Anakin countered.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, and the words had never been more honest. Without the Force, his knowledge seemed limited indeed. “Anakin, what is the Force telling you?”

“That Luke isn’t lying to us. That we can trust him,” Anakin said. “He cares for you, a great deal.”

“And for you, I would imagine,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin pressed his lips together, and shook his head.

“I can’t read his feelings for me,” he said. “He doesn’t hate me, but it’s… clouded. The way he feels about you, on the other hand, is very clear.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, but he wasn’t entirely sure what else he could say.

“He wants you to stay,” Anakin said, tightly. “I’m worried that he’ll try to influence you. I know that you’re… stronger than that, I do. I just-”

“You’re just going to worry anyway,” Obi-Wan said. “He doesn’t really seem like the manipulative sort.”

“Maybe not. Just… be careful around him, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not a speeder, Anakin, I’m hardly going to get stolen,” Obi-Wan said, and he was suddenly very aware of Anakin’s light, yet still inappropriately possessive hold on his arm. “It looks as though young Luke’s been successful. Shall we meet his new Republic?”

“We’ll talk more about this later,” Anakin said.

“If it comes up,” Obi-Wan said.

“You mean, if you can’t manage to avoid the subject,” Anakin said quietly, letting go of Obi-Wan’s arm a moment before Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask him.

“If it becomes relevant,” Obi-Wan said instead, heading down the stairs and towards the waiting air cab, Anakin half a step behind him.

He almost wished that Anakin was still making smart remarks. A silent Anakin was an Anakin coming up with a brilliant plan, and that rarely ended well. Obi-Wan still had a faint scar on his left arm from Anakin's last brilliant plan, back on Hermoida IV. And this time, he probably wouldn't be lucky enough to get away with just a scar.


	25. Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia and Han meet with one of Han's old contacts.

“You know, this isn’t appropriate behavior for a grown man,” Leia said, impatiently tapping her fingers on the console while she waited for Han to finish.

“Almost done,” Han said. He’d been saying that for the last hour, so, for some reason, she was finding it hard to believe him.

Something made a clunking noise and Han let out a curse and waved his hand around in the air. Tiny drops of engine grease splattered on the floor around him.

“The engine was fine the way it was,” she continued, cupping her chin in the palm of her hand. “Actually, I think the _Falcon_ has been a little quieter than usual.”

“I don’t care if _you_ think she sounded better,” Han said, pointing an accusing, oil-smeared finger at her. “She’s been violated, that’s all that matters.”

Leia rolled her eyes.

“It’s all right,” Han said, in loving tones. “I love you, baby, no matter what that monster did to you.”

Leia glanced over to see Han cooing at the engine. She sighed, and idly wondered how much it cost to have a ship discreetly blown up.

Maybe she could just have it put out of commission for at least a few weeks. She liked the ship… well, she didn’t _hate_ the ship, but she wasn’t planning on spending the rest of her life on it.

Han, on the other hand, probably would be perfectly happy to spend their wedding night on the _Falcon_. She could picture it now -- dim lighting courtesy of a ‘minor’ malfunction, mood music supplied by Artoo, and a romantic dinner catered by Chewie. Don’t mind the hair in the food, it just gives the meal texture.

Leia sighed again, and wondered if there was any chance that she could talk to Han’s contact without Han actually being there. She knew almost all of Han’s secrets, so she might be able to prove that he’d sent her, and, really, watching Han screw around with machinery only turned her on at certain times of the month.

“Isn’t your friend expecting you?” Leia asked, finally.

“Oh, there isn’t really a meet set-up,” Han said, putting the welder down and prowling over towards Leia. “I just wanted to stop by before we left the planet. Dex knows more about the state of the galaxy than… well, just about anyone.”

“What exactly do you hope to learn?” Leia asked. She could remember hearing about Dex, back when she’d first joined the Rebellion. Word like Dex traveled quickly in certain circles. He was well-known for being able to supply just about anything to just about anyone, and being willing not to ask too many questions. He’d eluded the Empire for as long as there’d _been_ an Empire.

“What you told me to,” Han said, leaning over the console. He flashed her one of his quick grins. “You wanted to know what ‘the people’ think about the New Republic. Dex’ll be able to tell us.”

“You mean, this is for… for the Republic?” Leia asked, feeling her cheeks flush with a touch of embarrassment. After almost four years, she was still underestimating Han. Leia reached out and gently brushed Han’s cheek with back of her hand. “Thank you.”

Han caught her wrist, calloused fingers stroking against her skin. His smile was softer now, almost sweet.

“Not a problem,” Han said, his voice husky and low.He tugged on her wrist and she stretched up to kiss him.

The room around her faded into the background and Han’s mouth was the center of her universe – the warmth of his lips, the rough rub of his stubble, and the teasing strength of his tongue.

“The message has been sent,” Threepio said, his voice loud in the closed confines of the ship.

After another long moment, and an impatient noise from Threepio, Leia reluctantly pulled away from Han, trying to remember just what message Threepio could be talking about.

“Master Luke’s message,” Threepio added, rather unhelpfully.

“What message?” Han asked.

“He didn’t mention it?” Threepio asked. “Oh, dear. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m sure that he’d want us to know,” Leia said.

Threepio stared at them for a moment.

“I suppose that you’re right,” Threepio said. “Well, before Master Luke left the ship, he asked me to send a message to Chewbacca.”

“To bring Artoo here?” Leia asked. “Because of Anakin and Obi-Wan?”

“Precisely,” Threepio said.

“Well, that’s good, then,” Han said, after a moment. “Luke was probably looking for an excuse to get Artoo back, anyway.”

“I do understand that,” Threepio said. “For all his faults, Artoo can be quite a comforting companion.”

“He’s certainly one of the two most devoted and determined droids that I’ve ever known,” Leia said. She walked past Han and placed a hand on Threepio’s shining arm. “And you are the other.”

“Princess Leia,” Threepio said, awe-struck. Even as a child, she’d been amazed at how expressive and… _alive_ some droids could be. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say thank you,” Leia said.

“Thank you,” Threepio said, sounding a little choked-up.

“Now, Threepio, while we’re out, I’d like you to send another message,” Leia said softly. Threepio nodded. Leia glanced over at Han, who was putting his tools away. “This one is for Senator Reilia of Naboo. Just let her know that I’d like to have a chance to talk to her about a party of mutual interest.”

For a moment, Threepio looked oddly conflicted.

“It would be my pleasure,” Threepio said, finally.

“Thank you,” Leia said.

“We ready?” Han asked, his hand touching Leia’s elbow.

“Perhaps I should come with you,” Threepio fussed.

“And why would we need you there?” Han asked.

“Well, I was just asking,” Threepio said, indignantly.

“We won’t be gone long,” Leia said. “And you’ve got to look after the ship for us.”

“Yeah, we’re, uh, trusting you,” Han said, hand curving around Leia’s arm. Leia gave Threepio a reassuring smile and she and Han strolled out of the ship.

The street was bustling with foot traffic, while speeders and air cabs zipped by overhead.

“Now, remember to act casual,” Han said, softly. “Like you’ve been here before.”

“Han, I’ve been working with the Rebellion since before I was twelve,” Leia said sweetly. “Besides, the people here know you, right?”

“Yeah, of course they do,” Han said. Leia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“And they aren’t… mad at you for anything?” Leia asked.

“No! Of course not,” Han protested. “The last time I was here, everything went fine. I just haven’t been back for a while and, well, they aren’t big fans of government in general.”

“The Empire’s fallen,” Leia said.

“But the New Republic isn’t going to look kindly on smugglers, either,” Han said. “They’ll want a piece of the pie, and these guys are used to having the whole pastry to themselves, if you know what I mean.”

“I suspect that even Threepio would be able to guess,” Leia said.

Han steered them towards a nondescript building that still managed to stand out – grey and unmarked in an area where everything seemed to be sporting colorful graffiti.

“This is the place,” he said, leading her down a narrow alley on the left side of the building. There was a shallow set of steps leading to a wide door. Han rapped lightly on the door, and a thin horizontal strip of the door shimmered and faded, showing a pair of glowing red eyes. “I’m here to see Dex.”

“Name?” The voice was raspy and low and it seemed to be promising untold pain to anyone it didn’t like.

“Han Solo.”

“One moment.” The eyes disappeared, leaving only darkness behind. Han glanced over at Leia and gave her a quick smile.

A minute passed, then two, and Han shifted uncomfortably next to her.

The strip of black turned grey again, and the door rumbled, folding up and into the building, revealing a young Twi’lek, her pale purple skin gleaming in the soft light, lekku-tentacles delicately draped over her shoulders.

“Lylaan! It’s good to see you again,” Han said, with a warm smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Solo,” she said simply, inclining her head.

Leia noticed that Han’s smile had turned slightly queasy.

“Dex would be very pleased to speak with you,” Lylaan continued, in dulcet tones. “He’s looking forward to asking you a few questions about the many rumors he has been hearing over the past few years.”

“That’s good to hear,” Han said.

But when he started to enter the building, Lylaan held up a hand, her gaze shifting to Leia.

“Only you are welcome, Mr. Solo,” she said. “Unless your friend is willing to provide us with a reason to trust her.”

“She’s not dangerous,” Han said.

“She may not intend harm,” Lylaan said. “But that does not make her presence here any less dangerous. You are lucky that no one seems to have recognized her.”

“You know who I am?” Leia asked.

“We are aware of your connections to the renewed Republic.”

“Then, please, let Dex know that the Republic has no interest in shutting him down. We want to work _with_ people, not against them,” Leia said.

Lylaan’s pale blue gaze assessed her for a moment and Leia lifted her chin, meeting the woman’s eyes without hesitation.

“Very well.” Lylaan turned her hand around and gracefully gestured for Leia to enter. “Both of you will leave your weapons here.”

“Of course,” Han said, pulling his blaster out of his holster and placing it on a small side-table that Leia hadn’t noticed before. Leia quickly followed his example. Their blasters seemed to sink into the metal of the table, and, in seconds, had vanished from sight.

Lylaan reached out, her hand caressing the wall, and the door rumbled down behind them.

“You will follow me,” she said, pressing another spot on the wall. Though Leia couldn’t see any buttons or switches, there was clearly something there as, with another soft sound, a new doorway opened, revealing a dimly lit set of narrow stairs, leading downward.

“See, nothing to worry about,” Han said, as they followed Lylaan.

“Who’s worried?” Leia whispered back.

The stairs twisted as they went further down, below the streets of Coruscant. The lights had grown fainter and Leia kept one hand on the wall to steady herself.

“How far down are we?” Leia asked.

“It’s not much further,” Han said, which wasn’t really much of an answer.

But before she could say anything about that, they were finally reaching the bottom of the stairs.

They pushed through a curtain of beads, and they emerged out of an alcove into a large room. The walls were light blue and the floor was tiled in blue and grey, with large blue rug in the center of the room.

Not exactly what she’d have pictured for a successful black-markets supplier.

There was a desk at the end of the room, with two chairs in front of it, and standing next to it was a Besalisk, and she could only assume that he was Dex. He also didn’t look much like she’d expected. He was dressed sloppily, in a pale green t-shirt and loose pants. One of his eyes was cloudy, though the other was still yellow and sharp, and his upper right arm ended at the elbow in a smooth, blackened stump.

“Ah, Han,” he rumbled, as Lylaan took a seat at a small chair to the left of the desk. “I was pleased to hear that you survived your encounter with Jabba.”

“You heard about that,” Han said.

Dex chuckled richly, heavy jowls shaking. Lylaan laughed, too, her light voice weaving into Dex’s deeper sound.

After a moment, Dex waved at the chairs in front of the desk and then he moved to wedge himself behind it.

Leia gingerly took the seat on the left. The chairs seemed to be a little more uncomfortable than they needed to be.

“We did hear about it,” Dex said, his upper left hand spread out flat on the desk. “We heard that you got out, that you killed Jabba and destroyed his operation.”

“All with the help of a Jedi Knight,” Lylaan said, crossing her legs and leaning forward slightly.

“Since the Jedi are known to be extinct, we found that rumor to be particularly intriguing,” Dex said.

“Very interesting,” Lylaan added.

“Luke Skywalker plans to restore the Jedi Order,” Leia said. Dex and Lylaan both turned intense looks onto her.

“Skywalker?” Lylaan asked, her voice sharp with interest.

“We’d heard the rumor that the Jedi was a Skywalker, but we found it hard to believe,” Dex said.

“It would confirm other… theories,” Lylaan said, left hand reaching up to stroke at a lekku. “Are you still acquainted with Skywalker?”

“He’s a friend,” Han said.

“I would appreciate it if you could arrange a meeting,” Dex said. Han’s brow wrinkled and Leia could understand how he felt – Dex clearly had his own agenda here, one that Han hadn’t known anything about.

“I would like to know why,” Han said.

Dex smiled toothily.

“Because I used to be friends with a Jedi or two,” Dex said. “And I would like to see if he is good enough to be a true Jedi.”

“If we arrange a meeting for you and… Master Skywalker, we’d like something in return,” Leia said. Lylaan tilted her head curiously. “We’d like for you to meet with representatives from the New Republic.”

Lylaan glanced over at Dex.

“I believe that can be arranged,” she said, after a moment. Then, she rose from her chair. “And now, I believe that it is time for you to leave.”

“Of course,” Leia said, standing up. Lylaan gestured at the beads.

“There is only one way out, and you will find that your weapons are no longer hidden,” she said. “Feel free to take your time, but remember that you are being recorded. We would appreciate it if you could return with Skywalker as soon as possible. We will be waiting.”

Han was still looking a little stunned, so Leia nodded her thanks and grabbed him by the hand to lead him out.

“What the hell just happened?” Han asked, when they were half-way up the stairs.

“I don’t know,” Leia said. “But if meeting with Luke is important enough for him to be willing to deal with the Republic, I’ll take it.”

“If Luke agrees,” Han said.

“Well, of course, if Luke agrees,” Leia said. “I’m not going to force him to come here if he doesn’t want to.”

“Of course not,” Han said.

“Of course, this is such a wonderful opportunity that I’m _sure_ he’ll agree,” Leia said. “Dex traded with the Rebellion more than once, but the moment that we toppled the Empire, he cut off relations. We could use a man like him, Han, someone who has his finger on the pulse of the people.”

“But you’re not going to force Luke into anything,” Han said.

“I won’t have to.”


	26. The New Republic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin isn't fond of most politicians.

To be honest, Anakin had been expecting a bigger building.

“ _This_ is the headquarters of the new Republic?” he asked. It was vaguely square, with two high towers at the back corners.

The cab had dropped them off on a walkway a short distance from the entrance and there seemed to be relatively few people coming and going from the building, and those people all moved quickly, and with purpose. Even in the midst of the war, Anakin had rarely seen politicians so much as break into a brisk walk. They’d always seemed to prefer strolling – it was easy for them to talk that way, he guessed.

“It’s the current base of operations,” Luke said, handing something over to the air cab driver. It looked like hard currency, and that was… different for Coruscant.

And that made everything seem real in a different way than the Temple. The Temple had been an obvious break with reality as Anakin had known it, but in many ways, now that he was away from it, it seemed like one of his nightmares. This smaller thing, using currency instead of credits, it emphasized the truth of what Luke was telling them – the universe had changed a _lot_ in a very short span of time.

Currency was for Outer Rim planets and underground operations, things that operated _under_ the Republic’s radar. Not for the heart of Coruscant.

“It’s just… well, the Senate building is a lot bigger,” Anakin said. “And it’s still standing, we passed it on the way here. So, why not just use that?”

“Because, I suspect, the Empire used it,” Obi-Wan said. “And this new Republic doesn’t want the general public to associate this government with that one.”

“We are trying to do things differently,” Luke said, with a nod. “From both the Empire and the Old Republic.”

“Do you have fewer Senators?” Anakin asked, idly. “That was part of the problem. Too many screaming voices.”

“The Senate was actually only officially dissolved four years ago, so apparently it was relatively easy to get the system back in place,” Luke said, heading towards the building. “Though not all of the planets have joined the New Republic yet. There’s a lot of lost trust that needs to be won back.”

As he followed Luke, Anakin glanced over to see Obi-Wan looking pensive and thoughtful, putting this new information into its proper place in what they already knew. It was interesting, that the Senate had survived past the Republic, though Anakin wouldn’t dare to guess what it could mean. Politics were, well, tedious and they seemed so pointless most of the time anyway.

Politics hadn’t saved Padmé when her planet had been threatened by the Trade Federation. She'd had to do that herself.

In fact, Anakin couldn’t think of a single useful thing that the Senate, as a whole, had ever accomplished. Mostly, they just argued and deliberated. Anakin would be the first to admit that he had his share of issues with the Council, but they did, at least, get things done.

Getting closer to the building didn’t make it any more impressive. It was boring, made of grey duracrete. It had no warmth, no grandeur. On the other hand, maybe working in an ugly building meant that people actually _worked_ instead of feeling that they needed to be polite and elegant to match their surroundings. Still, it was a disappointment when the inside of the building was much the same – every part of it monochrome and sterile. Anakin couldn’t imagine spending his life in a place like this. He’d go crazy inside a week.

Probably sooner.

Luke led them up to a desk and starting talking quietly to the Mon Calamari stationed behind it. Anakin could have attuned his senses and listened in, but didn’t bother. He doubted that it would tell them anymore about how to stop the Order and the Republic from falling. Honestly, he thought that they knew enough _now_ and should just start concentrating on how to leave. But he had the feeling that Obi-Wan wouldn’t agree.

Obi-Wan always did have to insist on being difficult.

It wasn’t too long before Luke wandered back to them, saying that they’d be able to see Minister Mothma in a few minutes.

“That was fast,” Obi-Wan said.

“Part of the reason that we came here was because I was going to meet with her anyway,” Luke said. “Not a scheduled appointment, as such, just an unofficial meeting after the close of the day.”

“About the Order?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes. I want to establish a system for finding and training potential Jedi. Minister Mothma told me that she would be willing to help,” Luke said.

“Generous of her,” Obi-Wan said, almost under his breath, as they followed Luke down a wide corridor.

Mothma’s office seemed a little out of the way for the person that Luke had called the ‘leader’ of their organization.

And that impression remained when they went inside – the room was not large and the entire back wall was a window into the city, and Anakin could see the old Senate building from here, glittering in the moonlight as if it was still the center of Coruscant.

There was a pale green rug on the floor, the only touch of color in the room, including Mothma herself, who was rising to greet them. She looked stunned but also pleased. Anakin wasn’t sure that he liked either reaction.

“When Princess Leia told me that you were planning on resurrecting the Jedi Order, I had not thought she meant it so literally,” Mon Mothma said, her resonant voice filled with wonder. Now that he’d heard her voice, Anakin remembered her – she’d had more than one talk with Obi-Wan about how the Order should be a more positive influence for the people of the Republic. She’d had a data slip full of helpful suggestions that she’d wanted Obi-Wan to present to the Council. “How is this possible?”

“You recognize them, then?” Luke asked.

“General Kenobi and I have spoken on a number of occasions, both before the fall of the Republic and even after,” she said. “And I do not believe it would be possible to forget the many HoloNet reports about Kenobi and Skywalker, the great heroes of the First Clone War.” She turned her gaze to Obi-Wan. “But the last time that I spoke with you, sir, you _were_ quite a bit older.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, milady,” Obi-Wan said, bowing. Anakin inclined his own head as well, though he didn’t go to the extremes that Obi-Wan did. “Sadly, I don’t have any answers for your questions.”

“I do believe that the Force was involved,” Luke said. “They seem to have been pulled from their own time, one from before the fall of the Republic, and placed into ours.”

Mothma looked carefully at Anakin and Obi-Wan, and Anakin found himself reluctantly impressed by the strength in her eyes. She looked pale and overworked, but the glow of conviction that surrounded her made it clear why she’d been chosen to be this new Republic’s version of a Chancellor.

“Then, perhaps, this is a reward from the Force for our success at the Battle of Endor,” she said. “Perhaps they were sent here to help us rebuild the Republic.”

“Do you believe that we could be useful?” Obi-Wan asked.

“There are many who would recognize you still, and who remember you fondly,” she said. “Even many of the Senators who believed that the Jedi had tried to murder Palpatine did not believe that you could have been involved. And when Palpatine was questioned by the Senate on the matter, he told us that he did not believe that either of you were aware of the Jedi’s plans to assassinate him.”

“He didn’t think he could sell us as assassins,” Obi-Wan said.

“The only people that he could have convinced would have been the Trade Federation’s lackeys,” Mon Mothma said. “Out of the entire Jedi Order, you two are the only ones that were not tainted with the word ‘traitor’. More than that, since many believed that you were killed during the war, Palpatine’s filth will not cling to you. You can help us unite the factions of the Republic that have been hesitant to rejoin.”

“We don’t actually know how long we’re going to be here,” Anakin said. “We don’t know just _how_ this all happened yet, so we don’t know if we’re actually meant to stay in this time.”

“Of course, you are,” she said, firmly. “Why else would you have arrived just when you did? Next week is the one-year anniversary of the Empire’s fall. It’s the perfect opportunity to reintroduce you into the public eye.”

“We _will_ do what we can to aid the Republic,” Obi-Wan said. “But only so long as it does not conflict with the will of the Force. And we do not yet know what that will has planned for the future.”

“That is not a no,” she said.

“You’re quite right,” Obi-Wan said.

“Then I will trust in the Force.” Mothma smiled at Obi-Wan, joy tempered with experience. “As I did during the long, dark years of the Emperor’s rule.”

“We are honored by your faith,” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head gracefully. “And I do give you my word that I will help you if I can.”

“You lighten my heart. This is a very great day for us all. To have the Negotiator among us is a blessing we had not known to hope for,” she said. She paused, glancing at Luke for a moment before returning her attention to Obi-Wan. “Unfortunately, the hour grows late and I still have much to do this evening. General, we would be honored if you would pass the night in one of our guest suites, and if you would grant me the chance to speak more with you in the morning.”

“I welcome the opportunity,” Obi-Wan said, bowing deeply. “My thanks, Minister.”

“None are required,” she said. “I’m sure that our Master Skywalker would be more than willing to give you a tour. I will inform my aide to prepare a suite.”

Obi-Wan bowed again, and the three of them left Mon Mothma’s office.

“Why just one?” Luke asked, when they were standing in the near-empty hallway.

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Why didn’t she request two rooms to be made up?” Luke asked.

Anakin blinked. The question never would have occurred to him, and clearly hadn’t to Obi-Wan as well.

“She’s familiar with the habits of the Jedi Order,” Obi-Wan said. “For us to use two rooms, when we can make do perfectly well with one, would be wasteful.”

“So, you two share rooms often?” Luke asked.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said, turning a considering look onto Luke. “And until Anakin’s Knighting, we shared an apartment at the Temple as well.”

“You really spend a lot of time together,” Luke muttered.

“We’re partners,” Anakin said, sharply. Obi-Wan didn’t look at him, but Anakin could feel the weight of his disapproval regardless. Anakin sighed, reaching for a way to work through his anger that _wouldn’t_ annoy Obi-Wan. “Luke, are there any rooms around here big enough to use for ‘saber practice?”

“There are plenty of large rooms, they just all tend to be full of tables,” Luke said. “The roof might work, though. The right side is used by official Republic air traffic, but most of the left side is an artificial garden with a lot of open space. At this time of night, there shouldn’t be anyone there.”

“That sounds perfect,” Anakin said. He waved a hand. “Lead the way.”


	27. In the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Obi-Wan notices flowers, moonlight, and bladed weapons made out of energy.

After the endless white walls of the building, Obi-Wan felt an almost physical sense of relief when Luke opened a pale door to reveal not another hallway but, instead, the carefully cultivated color of a rooftop garden.

Obi-Wan walked out of the doorway, stepping onto a grey path that seemed to his eye to curve off into the distance, various trees and bushes carefully blocking its destination from view.

Anakin was half a step behind him and Obi-Wan could easily sense his impatience even without the aid of the Force. Something in that conversation with Luke had certainly gotten Anakin very wound up, in need of some kind of physical release.

Once they found a suitable spot, lightsaber training would help Anakin channel his emotions, so that he could let go of them, instead of having them rattling about in his head, making him think and do crazy things.

Obi-Wan followed Luke down the path, noticing that the garden itself was quite beautiful, though the muffled but still discernable sounds of air traffic on all sides made it somewhat less than serene.

The lights of Coruscant were dim here, the arching roof of the gardenhouse muting them from view, but they were replaced by the discreet placement of softly glowing colored lights located near the edges of the path.

The colors were well-chosen – here, where the path twisted around a Balowan Rainflower, a bluish-white light had been placed behind the bush, designed to shine through the branches and illuminate the hanging bell-shaped flowers so that each one looked as if a tiny blue sun burned at its center.

Over on the left, Obi-Wan saw a large placement of Gallinore Promise Irises. Half-buried in the middle of the plot was a pale yellow light, shining up through the thin blossoms, giving the impression that they were glowing from the inside, as they were reputed to do when given from the hand of one’s own true love.

At the next bend in the path, Obi-Wan couldn’t resist pausing to brush his hand over the uplifted petals of the domesticated Eyer’luom stationed on the left. The bush was lit with a slowly flickering soft white light, the flowers almost seeming to blossom anew every few moments, before fading away again to shadow.

“That’s the same kind of plant that you have in your room, isn’t it?” Anakin asked, standing just to the left of Obi-Wan. “Near the corner by the bedroom door.”

“Yes, it is,” Obi-Wan said, still gently stroking the outside petals of the blossom nearest to him. The flower’s stem bent slightly at his touch, appearing far more fragile than it was.

The Eyer’luom was a deceptive plant. Without enough water, an Eyer’luom’s flowers dropped within days, leaving only dark green stems and tightly-furled leaves. Two weeks after that, and the color would fade, leaving what looked like a worthless bundle of sticks that one might as well just throw away. But, in reality, an Eyer’luom was almost impossible to kill by neglect – it had evolved in the harsh deserts of Haza’ak Prime and could survive for months without water, always ready to bloom again at the first hint of moisture. __

“They’re pretty enough, I suppose,” Anakin said. “But I’ve always preferred flowers that smell nice. These don’t have any scent at all.”

“They don’t need one,” Obi-Wan said, looking over at Anakin. “The Quaigula sandbird that pollinates them is drawn by color, not by scent.”

“Do you want one?” Anakin asked, glancing at Obi-Wan with a shy look in his eyes. Obi-Wan tilted his head, examining Anakin carefully. Anakin shifted, dropping his gaze down to the plant.

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You like them,” Anakin said, reaching forward to touch one of the blossoms. “I could use the Force to seal off the stem, preserve the flower so that it stays fresh.”

“You want to give me a flower?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Never mind,” Anakin said quickly, pulling his hand away, the flower swaying in the breeze caused by his movement. “It was a stupid idea.”

He turned away from Obi-Wan, hurrying down the path after Luke. Obi-Wan watched him for a moment, his hand cupping one of the Eyer’luom’s blossoms. He had the feeling that he’d given Anakin some injury, and that wasn’t a pleasant thought.

It was certainly true that most human cultures in the Republic had a tradition of lovers gifting each other with flowers, but, despite Anakin’s actions earlier, that wasn’t at all the situation here. Anakin was married. If he gave anyone flowers, it would be Senator Amidala. A romantic action such as that simply did not fit into his friendship with Anakin. Surely, even Anakin had to see that.

Obi-Wan pushed away his sudden discomfort, continuing down the path after the others without pausing to look at any of the other plants on display.

The path wound around, and it was clear that they were moving in something of an uneven spiral inward. Anakin had hung back a few steps from Luke and Obi-Wan stayed a few feet behind Anakin as well. He wasn’t much in the mood for more conversation right now.

Just ahead, Obi-Wan spotted a tall grove of Sacorria evergreens, the tops of the trees gently brushing against the roof above, the trees placed closely together. The path diverged, most of it twisting around to the right, past the grove, while Luke followed the smaller side path that led to a small break in the trees.

“This is the place that I was thinking of,” Luke said. “Leia showed me this clearing a few months ago, the first time that I came to Coruscant to meet with the New Republic.”

The path itself ended just before the curving line of evergreens, and when Obi-Wan passed through, he could see a wide open, grassy area, completely encircled by the thick green foliage of the trees.

It was lighter here. The roof was made of transparisteel in this section, and when Obi-Wan looked up, he could see stars overhead, and the lights of Coruscant creeping in around the edges.

“It’ll do,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to Anakin, who slipped his cloak off and tossed it to Obi-Wan, who caught it easily, draping it over his arm. “Luke, did I teach you the training forms?”

“You showed me a couple of exercises,” Luke said. “But we really didn’t have the time to get into any detail.”

“They’re easy enough,” Anakin said, slipping his lightsaber off his belt and igniting it, reflexively twirling it, the blade briefly describing a circle of bright blue. Obi-Wan’s hand fell to the hilt of his own lightsaber, and he felt a soft twinge in his chest when he realized that he couldn’t see the Force-ripples from Anakin’s sword. He’d known, of course, that he wouldn’t be able to, but still, seeing Anakin hold a ‘saber and _not_ being able to feel the dazzling heat of Anakin’s concentration was… distressing. “We’ll teach you.”

“I’d suggest starting from the beginning, Anakin. Show Luke the first form,” Obi-Wan said, slipping his cloak off and dropping it on the ground. He sat down on the grass, folding Anakin’s cloak and carefully placing it next to his own. “Half-speed.”

Anakin moved slowly through the clean, simple movements of the first exercise, body and blade smoothly gliding to hit the precise marks of the form. Luke was watching carefully – he’d pulled his own lightsaber out, but hadn’t yet ignited it, concentrating solely on Anakin.

“Luke, did you catch that?” Obi-Wan asked, as Anakin reached the end of the form, falling back into the beginner’s ready position, blade held in a defensive diagonal in front of his abdomen.

“I think so,” Luke said, switching his ‘saber on. The blade gleamed a vibrant green, and Luke’s expression was focused but serene as he shifted his stance to match Anakin’s. “I’m ready.”

“Half-speed again, then,” Obi-Wan said, settling back to watch. He might not be able to see how they looked in the Force, but he could still learn about Luke’s technical prowess.

Luke matched Anakin, movement to movement, not a trace of hesitation in his steps. He was a fast learner, which made a great deal of sense – Anakin had always been better at dueling than most Jedi. One of the benefits of Anakin being so strongly attuned to the Force was that his ‘saber truly was an extension of his will.

“Anakin, second form,” Obi-Wan called out. “Do it once half-speed, then I want to see if Luke can match you at full-speed.”

Luke lapsed back into a ready position that was slightly more on his toes than most of the ones that Obi-Wan was familiar with, while Anakin snapped into the sharper, tighter movements of Makashi. Even at half-speed, the blade blurred as Anakin swung it into some of the more complicated blocks and cuts.

Anakin stepped into the final exercise in the form, twisted around in a half-circle and then slicing his ‘saber across the empty air in front of him, gracefully cutting his imaginary foe in two at the midsection. Obi-Wan heard a soft, distressed sound, but when he looked over at Luke, the boy seemed to be calm enough.

“Both of you, now,” Obi-Wan said. “Full-speed, and repeat the complete exercise three times.”

Anakin glanced over at Luke and then immediately restarted the form, catching Luke off-guard. Luke began half a step behind Anakin, but soon caught up and was again mirroring Anakin’s movements.

“The second form is also known Makashi,” Obi-Wan said, conversationally. “While the first form is about familiarizing yourself with your Force-connection to your lightsaber so that it is something more than just a pretty toy, Makashi teaches you how to _use_ your lightsaber against another ‘saber. It is the training exercise taught to Pawadan learners before they officially spar with each other.”

Luke had a very good, instinctive grasp of lightsaber technique, easily echoing Anakin in the exercise. He held the ‘saber hilt tightly, as if it would fall out of his hands if he wasn’t careful, nothing like Anakin’s careless and certain grip.

With a grip like that, Luke had probably never accidentally dropped his lightsaber over the edge of a cliff. Or had it cut in two at a droid processing plant. Or had it eaten by a particularly smelly and wet jungle cat.

Obi-Wan had had to kill the creature to get Anakin’s weapon back. Well, and to stop it from eating them both, but still, Anakin could have avoided getting them into that situation at all if he’d just kept a firmer grip on the handle of his lightsaber.

“How does that feel, Luke?” Obi-Wan asked, as the pair executed the final move.

“Some parts of it don’t feel natural at all,” Luke said. “I can’t imagine using some of those moves in a fight.”

“If I were your teacher, I’d have you practice them until they did feel natural,” Obi-Wan said. Luke walked toward Obi-Wan, switching off his lightsaber. “But right now, Anakin and I are both just interested observers.”

“What did you think of Minister Mothma’s suggestion?” Luke asked.

“It’s nonsense,” Anakin said. Luke glanced over at him, and Obi-Wan could see an intensity of concentration on Luke’s face that reminded him strongly of Senator Amidala when she was listening closely to someone.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“She seems to think that there’s a chance that we’ll stay here,” Anakin said. “And that isn’t going to happen. We’ll find a way back, and we _will_ take it. We’re not staying.”

“I can understand why you want to go home so badly,” Luke said. “But maybe…”

“What?” Anakin asked, sharply.

“Both of you don’t have to go back,” Luke said. Anakin took a step towards Luke, his lips pressing together and his eyes hard. “Mothma’s right, Obi-Wan. We really could use your help.”

“If Anakin goes back, so do I,” Obi-Wan said, voice brooking no disagreement. “There isn’t the slightest chance that I would allow him to go back to fight the fall of the Republic alone.”

“But the Republic does fall, you can’t stop that,” Luke said, turning back to Obi-Wan.

“By that logic, Anakin and I _must_ go back,” Obi-Wan said. “Anakin has children to father and I have you to train. If the past is immutable, then we _will_ both return. And, for some reason, we will be unable to stop the Republic’s fall. If, on the other hand, the past is subject to change, we have no idea what is or is not possible. Either way, whatever Anakin and I do, we will do together.”

“I see why Minister Mothma called you the Negotiator,” Luke said ruefully. “You have a way of making it impossible to successfully argue against you.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“Master, do you think our room is ready by now?” Anakin asked. He had the slightest hint of a smug smile on his face, undoubtedly inwardly crowing about his ‘victory’ over Luke in Obi-Wan’s affections. Obi-Wan reluctantly resisted the urge to chide Anakin about it -- over their many years working side by side, he had yet to see any positive results from his continual admonishments of Anakin’s less appropriate behavior.

“Possibly,” Obi-Wan said, not getting up. “Are you particularly tired?”

Anakin’s lips twitched in annoyance, probably caught between the desire to look good in front of Luke and the desire to go off and sleep for ten hours. At least the smugness was gone.

“Not _particularly_ ,” Anakin said.

“Well, then, why not stay here long enough to get in a duel with Luke?” Obi-Wan suggested. Anakin shot a heated look towards Luke, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“Whatever you say, Master,” Anakin said, turning towards Luke and bringing up his ‘saber in an impromptu salute. Luke took his lightsaber off his belt again and ignited it, and the air hummed.

Anakin circled away from Obi-Wan’s position, moving out towards the center of the clearing.

“Ready?” Anakin asked, bringing his ‘saber up in his typical overhead ready position. Luke nodded, taking a careful step toward Anakin, his blade held out in front of him.

Anakin lunged forward, bringing his blade down towards Luke’s shoulder and Luke instinctively blocked, their blades clashing together with a crackle and flash of energy.

Luke broke off, backing away from Anakin. Anakin tensed and Luke cocked his head – he looked slightly surprised when Anakin leapt over his head and landed lightly on his other side, but managed to bring his ‘saber up in time to counter Anakin’s strike at his head.

They exchanged blows for a few moments, blue light thrumming shrilly against green, neither seeming to find the advantage. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes as he noticed that, while most of Luke’s non-defensive strikes were aimed at Anakin’s arms or legs, every single aggressive move of Anakin’s was aimed for Luke’s head or torso, each one a killing blow.

Again, Luke was the one who broke off, circling away and to Anakin’s left.

Anakin leapt again, but this time, Luke moved toward Anakin’s old position while Anakin was in the air, leaving Anakin too far away when he landed to have the advantage.

Anakin and Luke circled each other around the center of the clearing, neither of them closing the space between. Under the starlight, they could have been any pair of Jedi sparring, green and blue ‘sabers held at the ready, all their concentration focused on sensing their opponent’s next move.

They rushed at each other, and Anakin’s downward blow hit hard against Luke’s blade, and this time, they stayed that way, blades pressing against each other, crackling and squealing in protest. Obi-Wan noticed Anakin shifting his weight to his right side half a moment before Anakin gracefully kicked up with his left foot, hitting Luke’s right arm an inch above the wrist.

Luke gasped, his lightsaber falling from his hand. Anakin twisted around, tunic swirling, as he narrowly missing being sliced by Luke’s still-lit lightsaber.

Luke had his left hand wrapped around his right arm, and then Anakin’s ‘saber was at his throat.

“Do you yield?” Anakin asked, with a cocky grin.

“You definitely won,” Luke said, looking slightly puzzled. Anakin switched off his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. “How did you know?”

Anakin just held up his right hand, gloved like Luke’s.

“You both have mechanical hands,” Obi-Wan said. “How very peculiar.”

“It is interesting,” Luke said, still staring at Anakin. “I knew that my father had one, but for some reason, I’d assumed that it’d happened later on, when he turned to the dark side.”

“And you hadn’t had the chance before now to get close enough to sense it,” Anakin said. “Sure, it’s a one-time-only trick, but most of them are.”

“I’m going to want another try at this,” Luke said, and he had a smile lurking behind his eyes. From his defensive posture throughout this night’s fight, Obi-Wan had the feeling that Luke had been holding back, and Obi-Wan found himself hoping that he would get to see their rematch.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Anakin said, strutting over to where Obi-Wan was still sitting. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to sigh. This victory would make Anakin impossible to live with for the next few hours. Obi-Wan tossed both Anakin’s and his own cloak up to Anakin and then reached up with his hand, Anakin reaching down to clasp it in his own and haul Obi-Wan up from the ground.

“I look forward to it,” Luke said.

“And I look forward to falling into a soft bed,” Obi-Wan said.

“We’ll go find your suite, then,” Luke said, glancing over at Obi-Wan and Anakin before heading back to the break in the circle of trees.

It was only after Luke passed them that Obi-Wan realized that Anakin’s hand was still wrapped around his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in an attempt to be accurate with lightsaber-ness, I looked it up, saw the whole 'forms used in combat' thing and said, "Right, I'll use those when Lucas does". But I did really like one of the names of the forms, so I nicked it.


	28. The Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke might be getting a bad feeling about this.

Luke walked ahead of Obi-Wan and Anakin on the pathway, left hand rubbing the bruised connection between his right arm and mechanical hand, making sure that his mind was shielded and closed off from Anakin.

Not that he thought Anakin would try to look. Anakin hadn’t reached out to probe Luke’s mind since they were both onboard the _Falcon_. Luke was definitely getting the impression that Anakin didn’t like him all that much.

And Luke was still trying to wrap his mind around the reality of Anakin. Some things were what he’d expected – Anakin’s lightsaber technique had been very much like Vader’s, though more acrobatic, and Anakin’s initial shocked reaction to hearing that Luke and Leia were his children had made sense.

But this didn’t.

Anakin had wanted to kill him in that fight. For just a moment, Anakin’s lightsaber at Luke’s throat, all that existed in Anakin had been hate, fierce and aching.

Then, the moment had passed, and Anakin had smiled, anger melting to arrogance and victory. Luke didn’t think that Obi-Wan had noticed – the surge of emotion had been almost blinding in the Force, but Anakin’s expression had barely flickered.

In some ways, Luke was glad that those two were going to be staying here at the headquarters instead of back on the _Falcon_. It would give him a chance both to think some things over and to talk Han into letting them back onto the ship in the morning.

Luke did plan on sticking with them, until they went back or at least found out how they’d gotten here in the first place, but when he sensed one of Mothma’s aides, Jual Todana, just behind the door back inside the building proper, Luke realized that he felt more than a touch of relief at spending some time away from Anakin.

Jual opened the door for them, gesturing them inside.

“Master Kenobi,” Jual said to Obi-Wan after they entered, bowing slightly. “It is my honor to inform you that a room has been made ready.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head in return.

“Master Skywalker,” Jual said, turning to face Luke. Luke felt a flash of emotion from Anakin, too quickly hidden to categorize, though anger seemed a fair guess, from what he’d seen so far. “Minister Mothma has requested to speak with you in the Hall of Records. I believe that you already know the way.”

“I do,” Luke said with a smile. Jual’s broad, battle-worn face creased briefly with a return smile, before returning to his customary neutrality.

“Then I would be pleased to show the Jedi to their room,” Jual said, bowing to Luke.

“Thank you,” Luke said. He turned to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “I’ll come back tomorrow, after the Minister meets with you. And I want you to know that I do want to help you.”

“Thank you, Luke,” Obi-Wan said.

“And we’ll see you in the morning,” Anakin said, shading his words with an implication that Luke didn’t feel like examining too closely. Obi-Wan shot Anakin an irritated glance, but didn’t say anything. Luke remembered, earlier, Obi-Wan’s inability to describe just what his relationship was with Anakin, and the memory filled Luke with an odd sense of foreboding.

Some part of him was uncertain that he should leave them alone.

But they were already walking away and it was only the shadow of a warning, one that Obi-Wan wouldn’t have believed in any case. Obi-Wan trusted Anakin, hadn’t yet been betrayed by Anakin. There really was nothing that Luke could say that Obi-Wan would trust, especially without the Force there to inform him of his future bond with Luke.

And Minister Mothma was waiting.

Luke turned away, taking a route that wouldn’t pass the guest suites. Today, the walls seemed to be pressing in on him, just a little. He knew that Mothma wanted to keep the building plain, but a splash of color in the halls wouldn’t hurt anything.

Maybe he’d ask Leia to say something to Mothma. They had a certain closeness and often spoke for hours on politics and matters of state. Luke’s relationship with Mothma was much more tenuous, centered as it was around the formation of the New Jedi Order and just how much that Order would have to do with the New Republic.

As he neared the room, Luke passed another of Mothma’s aides, Rau’a Tuwa, a native of Coruscant. She was in a hurry, her right hand clenched in a tight fist, the dark blonde bun of her hair slightly messy, clear green eyes focused on her destination. Mothma’s aides were generally rushing about, but this felt different somehow.

Luke filed the thought away to deal with later, and knocked lightly on the door.

“Come.” As Mothma spoke, Luke pressed his left thumb lightly on the panel at the side of the door. The door slid open with a gentle whisper of sound.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Luke said as he entered the room. The Hall of Records was much in the style of most of the rooms in the building, with one exception – the walls of the room were lined with drawers, each containing data slips of historical information. So many databanks had been wiped during the Clone Wars and their aftermath. This was one of the safeguards to prevent that from happening again, by having the information in a concrete form that existed outside the internal databanks of the main system.

Mothma was standing by the left wall, one drawer pulled out from the wall. She glanced up at him with a soft smile.

“It's my pleasure, Master Skywalker,” she said warmly. “The New Republic remains grateful for all that you have done for us. I look forward to working with you and your New Jedi Order.”

Luke inclined his head and Mothma paused, looking uncertain for just a moment, and he noticed that she was twisting a data slip over in her hands.

“However, at the moment, I think you’ll agree that we have a more pressing matter to discuss,” she said, her conviction returning.

“Anakin and Obi-Wan,” Luke said.

“Precisely,” she said. “They do appear to be the men that I knew, those many years ago, but I’m sure you can understand why I might have some doubts. What proof do you have to offer that they _are_ the Kenobi and Skywalker of time gone by, and not impostors or even clones?”

“I have nothing solid,” Luke said. “I would suggest a genetic scan but a well-made clone would pass one, we both know that. All I can tell you is that, as a Jedi, I know the truth of who they are.”

“The Jedi didn’t see the last disaster coming,” Mothma said. “How can you be certain that you’re seeing enough of the pattern this time?”

“We can never be certain, Minister,” Luke said. Mothma nodded thoughtfully.

“Then, for now, I just ask that you keep an eye on them while they’re not in this building,” Mothma said. “They are too valuable or too dangerous to lose, depending on the truth of what they are. I will be relying on you, Master Skywalker.”

“Believe me, I plan on staying near them,” Luke said.

“Good. And we shall speak more of your ideas on searching out Jedi for your new order after next week’s celebration,” Mothma said. “I’m afraid that my schedule is far too busy to work in another meeting before then, and I do have to head out to an appointment soon.”

“Of course,” Luke said, bowing his head, pushing away his frustration at this particular discussion being postponed again and suppressing the urge to ask who else she would be speaking to, this late in the day. He started to turn away and then Mothma held out her hand, and he paused.

“Wait,” she said, a data slip gleaming in the palm of her hand. “Before you go, I’d like to give you this. This data copy contains all the surviving information on Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. There isn’t much there, I’m afraid, but it’s a start.”

“Thank you,” Luke said, reaching out to take the slip. He closed his fingers around it, the slip still warm from Mothma’s hand.

This time, when he turned to leave, she let him.


	29. Alchemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin wants more than he has.

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin noticed Obi-Wan thanking their guide, but most of Anakin’s attention was focused on the room itself.

It was a long room with one window running across the length of the far wall, revealing a glimpse of the city just outside. The walls were white and the furniture unremarkable – an uncomfortable-looking pale grey couch took up the near right side of the room, a bleached mahkowood table sitting in front of it. Two small beds lay beyond the couch, placed crosswise against the wall, a small metallic nightstand separating them. The blankets were light beige and the beds themselves looked firm, with no give. The other wall was adorned only with a plain set of drawers inset into the wall. All in all, very utilitarian. Not what Anakin himself would have given out to guests, but it matched the rest of the building.

They certainly didn’t seem to prize comfort or color in this new Republic. And Anakin was beginning to wonder if he’d ever see anything that made this future seem at all _desirable_. Everything so far just made him think that everyone would be better off if he and Obi-Wan could manage to fix things.

They just needed to figure out how to do that.

Anakin moved into the room, walking over to the windows and glancing outside. The lights of the city were bright, the traffic heavy and distracting. Anakin reached out and twisted the shade on the window down, blocking out the light.

He heard the soft click of the room door shutting, and the room flooded with light as Obi-Wan activated the overhead. Anakin closed his eyes against the brightness, reaching out with his senses.

There were two security recorders covering the room. With a light touch of the Force, Anakin switched them off, while tying a knot into the alarm system to keep it from triggering. They’d notice his interference, probably sooner rather than later, but if the Republic wanted to watch, they could have the decency to ask first.

As an afterthought, Anakin tied a mental alarm of his own into the door of the room, locking it and keying it to react if anyone tried to open the door.

Then Anakin turned around, opening his eyes as he smiled at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was already watching Anakin, a considering look on his face. Anakin felt a tiny pang of guilt when he noticed just how tired Obi-Wan looked, but he pushed it away. Obi-Wan could rest all he wanted _after_ they’d had a chance to talk.

“I just want to clarify something,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan tilted his chin up, the line between his eyes deepening, radiating concern and calm, though Anakin could almost feel the edges of another emotion underneath those. “About what happened back on that ship.”

“Oh, do you mean the ill-advised attempt to distract me from thinking about your relationship with Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin’s left hand tightened into a fist involuntarily, but he refused to let Obi-Wan’s words get under his skin.

“That wasn’t what it was,” Anakin said. He pulled off his cloak and tossed it on the nearest bed. The warm glow of his victory over Luke was fading, rapidly being replaced by an uncontrollable frustration at Obi-Wan, who seemed to be missing the point on purpose. “What I have with Padmé has nothing to do with the Order, and _nothing_ to do with you.”

“Then why are we talking about it at all?” Obi-Wan asked, wrapping his arms around his chest, left over right. Anakin pressed his lips together for a moment, turning and dropping down onto the bed, and then carefully and slowly started unbuckling the straps around the top of his left boot.

“Because we have to,” Anakin said, not letting himself look at Obi-Wan. “Or maybe… maybe because I want to.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice holding the slightest edge of strain. “We never needed to talk about it before.”

“Maybe we did,” Anakin said, undoing the last buckle and then slipping both the boot and sock underneath off, tossing them in the corner by the bed and starting on the right one. “Maybe we’ve always needed to, but neither of us wanted to because…what I have with Padmé, it changes things.”

“It doesn’t need to,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, still standing near the door, watching Anakin with that exhausted look in his eyes. “Anakin, I don’t-that is, I’m not planning on telling the Council.”

Anakin dropped his eyes back to his boot, carefully unfastening the buckles. The floor was cold and hard, unyielding under his left foot. Obi-Wan sighed softly, coming farther into the room.

“So, you see, it doesn’t have to change anything,” Obi-Wan said, sitting on edge of the other bed. “We can accept it and continue on, just the same as before.”

Anakin tugged off his right boot and sock, and tossed them over to join the others. He pushed further back on the bed, pulling his legs up. The narrow bed was softer than it had looked, the blanket plush under his bare feet. He picked his cloak up off of the bed and tossed it into the corner near his boots.

“I think that would be for the best,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan’s calm was slipping, just a little, and there was a hint of frustration pulsing into the Force. “Don’t you agree?”

“No,” Anakin said, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt and leaning back to place it onto the nightstand. He stayed there, leaning back onto the bed, propping himself up by his elbows. From this vantage point, he could see the back of Obi-Wan’s head, the curve of his ear, and the very edge of his face. “I don’t.”

“Why not?” Obi-Wan said, his shoulders slouching forward the slightest bit.

“Because I don’t want things to stay the same,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan’s back tensed slightly and Anakin felt the sudden, intense urge to run his hand over Obi-Wan’s skin, to massage the tension out until Obi-Wan relaxed under his touch. “I want more.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, but Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s uncertainty. There was no real confusion there, merely indecision.

“I want you to look at me,” Anakin said, reaching down and releasing the catch on his belt, slipping off the belt and the sash underneath, his tabard and tunics sliding out of place “No, I want you to _see_ me.”

“I’m not sure I understand the distinction,” Obi-Wan said, carefully. Anakin dropped the belt and sash off the side of the bed, watching as Obi-Wan winced at the soft sound they made as they hit the floor.

“Don’t you?” Anakin asked, pushing his fear down to a cold, dark part of his mind. Finally, Obi-Wan glanced over at him, a sidelong look that spoke of banked heat. Obi-Wan was still trying to be calm, Anakin could feel that, but underneath, desire was starting to burn.

Obi-Wan had already shown that he would allow Anakin’s touch, allow Anakin to steal a kiss. If he just managed to convince Obi-Wan that this was nothing like a distraction, nothing like a poison, but instead the next natural step in their relationship, then Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to back away again.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his gaze seemingly trapped by the bared skin that was showing between the pieces of Anakin’s tunic. Anakin shifted back, leaning the back of his head against the wall, resting his shoulders on the pillow, letting the fabric fall further apart, reveling in the surge of longing that flooded into Obi-Wan. As he’d learnt in his relationship with Padmé, that feeling was a fire that only one thing could truly quench.

Anakin licked his lips, then let out a breathy little sigh, carefully peeking out from under his eyelashes to see Obi-Wan’s reaction. Obi-Wan’s lips were pressed together, a thin line that spoke of impatience, but he hadn't turned away.

“Anakin, didn’t you want to talk?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice lower and rougher than usual. He seemed to realize it, and cleared his throat, as though Anakin would believe that that had been the problem. “You aren’t talking.”

“Ah, I was just… getting comfortable,” Anakin said, lingering over each word. He slid his left hand onto his stomach, shivering even at his own touch, pushing the fabric out of the way, completely baring his chest and stomach. “Where were we?”

“You-you were ignoring me, like you normally do,” Obi-Wan said, voice tight with frustration. Anakin grinned lazily, lightly skimming his hand across his own skin.

“Oh, no, Master, I’ve been listening to every word,” Anakin said, slipping just the tip of a finger under the top of his pants. Anakin’s hips bucked slightly, and Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered between Anakin’s face and his hand. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat for a moment at the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

Anakin bit down on his lower lip so he could keep quiet, and let the moment play out. Something in the room was shifting, and Anakin relaxed slightly, his hand falling back down to the bed as he allowed himself to touch the Force as fully as possible – it was easier here, somehow. He’d been noticing that for a while, but it never felt as clear as it did right now. Something was about to happen.

“This is not who we are,” Obi-Wan said softly, pleadingly. Obi-Wan shifted further onto his bed, turning to more fully face Anakin, his expression troubled and sincere.

“It’s who I am,” Anakin said, and he felt the truth of his own words. “I’m not the Jedi I should be, we both know that.”

“No, Anakin. That’s not true,” Obi-Wan said, his brow furrowed earnestly. “You’re an exceptional Jedi. I am honored to know you.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not a Jedi at all,” Anakin said, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I did try, Obi-Wan. I tried so hard.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Obi-Wan said, slipping down to kneel in the small space between the beds, reaching out to take Anakin’s hand into his own. “You have to be willing to just exist, Anakin, to allow yourself to be caught up in the Force.”

“I can’t.” Anakin shook his head softly, his fingers curving around Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Why not?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Because it burns,” Anakin whispered, doing his best to control the sharp flickers already racing through him. “And if I let it loose, it will consume me.”

“Let it,” Obi-Wan said, his hand tightening on Anakin’s. “Anakin, you can’t go on like this. You _are_ a Jedi, a very great one. This power was born inside you. However strong it is, you were made to hold it.”

Anakin let his eyelids slide closed, shivering as he let the leash on his control slip just a little. He felt warm, far too warm, and Obi-Wan’s hand on his was the only cool thing in the universe. Still, he kept his eyes closed, the Force rushing up against him. This was what Obi-Wan required of him, and... it was what the Force was asking, as well. And now he could see his mother’s eyes, dark and empty, the scar on her cheek a silent scream of betrayal. He hadn’t been able to save her.

Anakin let out a shuddering breath, not letting himself pull back on the leash, allowing the image to remain. All he could see was his mother’s dead gaze, all he could smell was the filth of the Tusken camp, all he could hear were the death cries of the raiders as he slaughtered them, and his mouth tasted of tears and blood.

But he could feel Obi-Wan’s hand on his, anchoring him.

Slowly, the aching pain of his mother’s death seemed to be overshadowed by something different, something that he couldn’t place.

Her words to him rang out in his mind.

 _Now, I am complete_.

“I don’t understand,” Anakin said, his eyes opening again, meeting Obi-Wan’s calm gaze.

“What don’t you understand?” Obi-Wan asked. With a sickening wrench, Anakin remembered that Obi-Wan didn’t know about the Tuskens. Didn’t know that Anakin was a monster already. “Anakin, talk to me.”

“I can’t,” Anakin said, sitting up and crossing his legs underneath himself, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan moved up to sit on the bed, placing his hand on Anakin’s knee. “Don’t make me.”

“Anakin, I’m not forcing you into anything,” Obi-Wan said. “I only want to help.”

“Because I’m important to the Order?” Anakin asked challengingly. Obi-Wan glanced away, his expression conflicted.

“Because you’re important to me,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “You’re my friend.”

“Is that what I am?” Anakin asked, reaching his hand out to cover Obi-Wan’s where it lay on Anakin’s leg. “Is that the right word for what we are?”

Obi-Wan glanced back at him, thoughtfully and… _there_ , Anakin finally felt the shift that he’d been waiting for. Obi-Wan had made a decision, something important.

“No, I don’t suppose that it is,” Obi-Wan said. His gaze dropped to Anakin’s lips, then flicked back up to meet Anakin’s eyes. Obi-Wan moved forward, slow and sure. Anakin closed his eyes, parting his lips slightly.

And Obi-Wan was kissing him, soft and certain, his tenderness pressing against Anakin in delicate, light waves.

Anakin relaxed into the kiss, the unfamiliar calm of true meditation washing over him. The Force still surged around him, but its fire had been banked, briefly transmuted into something gentler.

For this single moment in time, Anakin was at peace.


	30. Kenobi and Skywalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were the heroes of the Republic.

The data on the chip was hastily tossed together, with obvious breaks between each segment, clearly created on a deadline. After the information was compiled, forty-three copies had been made.

One of these copies had been given to Luke Skywalker.

Each of the data slips contained everything that still existed to document the existence of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, the best-known heroes of the Clone Wars.

Looking back, some say that the Old Republic truly fell on the day that the Emperor regretfully announced that Kenobi had been viciously murdered for his continued loyalty to the Senate and the Empire.

For many, that was the day that the last threads of hope died.

 _“This is one of the few files we recovered from the Temple itself. It appears to contain formal appeals made to the Council. Of particular interest is this glimpse at a young Anakin Skywalker, who was to be one of the heroes of the Clone Wars.”_

The recording showed a child, no more than ten and possibly younger, dressed in simple robes, hair trimmed close to his head except for one tiny braid hanging down behind his left ear. He looked incredibly solemn, especially considering his youth.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he said, as though prompted. He glanced to the left, biting his lip for a moment before continuing. “I was born on the planet Tatooine – do I really need to say all this?”

“Anakin, this is for the Temple Archives. We need this on file. You can’t attend classes with the other Padawans until your formal request has been recorded.”

“Why can’t _you_ teach me?” Anakin asked. “You’re my master.”

“Anakin, I simply don’t have time to fill you in on all the necessary background. Please, don’t make me go over this again.”

Anakin nodded, blinking rapidly for a few moments. Even from the tiny image of the holo, it was obvious that the young Anakin was fighting back tears.

“I was born on the planet Tatooine, which is located on the upper eastern edge of the Outer Rim,” Anakin said, looking forward again and talking in a fast monotone, each sentence sounding rehearsed. “I was discovered there by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who brought me before the Council and asked that I be made his Padawan. The Council refused then, but due to exten-extenuating circumstances, I request now to appeal that decision and to be permitted the rank of Padawan Learner under Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” Obi-Wan said, walking into the image from the left side. He was in his twenties, hair short and face beardless. “We’ll just insert that into the file in front of the Council’s acceptance holo and everything will be official.”

“And I’ll be a Jedi,” Anakin said, the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

Obi-Wan reached out, clasping Anakin’s shoulder gently. “You’ll be a step closer.”

The image fizzled out.

 _“General Kenobi is a particularly frustrating subject to study. Everyone over a certain age remembers him, but though it is well-known that he had an extensive circle of underground contacts, none of them have come forward to speak to the New Republic about this icon of our past. However, by a most peculiar set of circumstances, we managed to track down his last living relative, who agreed to speak to us, audio-only, on the condition that we not record her name or planet of origin in our formal report.”_

“Yes, the Council did send us reports every so often, and my mother would watch them alone in her room, but the simple truth is that all of those records were destroyed during the Second Clone War. And he never came out to visit us himself, so I don't know what he was like.” It was a woman’s voice, calm but forceful.

“And you didn’t watch the updates?” asked a soft, inquiring male voice.

“It’s not as if I ever actually knew him,” the woman said. “And... I think I was jealous, just a little. He was the special one, after all. She was so _proud_ of him.”

There was a soft and frustrated breath.

“He probably didn’t even know her name,” she said. “They weren’t supposed to remember their past, their family before the Order.”

There was another pause in the recording.

“She destroyed the recordings herself, when she heard he'd had been killed,” she said. “Hearing that… it ruined her. She died two years later, and his name was the last thing she ever said.”

“I’m sorry to bring up bad memories,” he said.

“No, it’s not your fault,” she said. “I just… I try not to think of him, and even now I would prefer to believe that he had died back then.”

“Knowing about his involvement in the Rebellion against the Empire doesn’t change your opinion of him?”

“It makes it worse. Some things are unforgivable, you see,” she said. “He never once tried to contact us, after the Order had fallen. If she had known that he was still alive, that there was even a chance, she wouldn’t have given up.”

There was a thoughtful pause.

“I suppose that I really do feel that he killed her,” she said. “Obi-Wan may be my brother by blood, but he was never a brother of my heart. So, there really is nothing that I can tell you about him. Nothing that you wouldn't already know.”

 _“The following is a brief security holo copied from the Senate archives before they were purged by the Empire. It is a rare chance to see a slightly more adversarial side of the famed Kenobi and Skywalker partnership.”_

The flickering blue light of the hologram showed two figures – an older Kenobi and Skywalker, Master and Knight, walking down the corridor in the middle of a heated discussion.

“-see why it’s a problem,” Anakin said, his cloak casually draped over his arm. “You said yourself that you trust Senator Organa, and he’s in favor of the treaty.”

“Trusting someone does not mean agreeing with all their decisions,” Obi-Wan said, arms folded across his chest. “In this instance, I do disagree with the Senator and I’m not going to pretend that I don’t. You seem to forget that he asked my opinion.”

“I just don’t understand _why_ you think it’s a bad idea,” Anakin said, glancing over at Obi-Wan. “We both want this war to end as quickly as possible.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Obi-Wan said. He sighed, sounding frustrated. “I just… I have a bad feeling about the entire arrangement.”

“You had a bad feeling about Jailux IV, and that worked out fine,” Anakin pointed out.

“Anakin, we almost died on that rock,” Obi-Wan said, but he was smiling now. “And you may recall that we very nearly _failed_ to accomplish our mission.”

“But we did-“

The image shorted out.

 _“The following short announcement by the Emperor is, of course, quite well-known, but as it does mention Master Kenobi, we thought it best to include it. Of note is the fact that after this day, the Emperor did not mention the names ‘Skywalker’ or ‘Kenobi’ in public ever again. Additionally, some younger members of our new Senate may not know that this announcement was used as part of the justification for the Empire’s ruling that species-based enslavement was to be considered an acceptable punishment in cases of world-wide treason.”_

"Today, I bring you news both joyous and tragic.” The Emperor was sitting down behind his desk, the hood of his robe shading his deformed face from view. “The Jedi Rebellion has finally been fully wiped out. Unfortunately, the few Jedi who had remained loyal to the Republic were also killed in the uprising, by their brothers in arms.”

In the back, the figure of Darth Vader was visible, light gleaming off his black suit.

“As we all know, Anakin Skywalker died protecting me from a fellow Jedi,” the Emperor continued. “A hero to the last. His memory lives close to my heart.”

“Just last night, we learned that his partner, our beloved Master Kenobi, was torn to pieces by a Wookiee, possibly sent by the now-deceased Master Yoda, who we believe was the mastermind of the attempt against my life and who we know was the Jedi Master sent to Kashyyyk, the Wookiee homeworld, just days before the uprising itself occurred.” The Emperor’s words were powerful and sincere, and his voice held the slightest tinge of regret.

“We do not believe this assassin acted without the consent of his government and I can assure you that steps have been taken against the Wookiee people to prevent any more traitorous activities on their part,” he said. “If you see a Wookiee, do not approach it yourself, as they are being considered extremely dangerous. Instead, please alert the nearest Imperial base and we will take care of the problem for you. Thank you, people of the Empire, and remember that we are working together for a more secure future.”

 _“None of the famous HoloNet reports on Kenobi and Skywalker seem to have survived past the Second Clone War. It is uncertain whether the Empire destroyed the reports, or if this was done by an outside party. None of the well-known holos of the two of them sparring have surfaced, though we are still searching. Sadly, the simple truth is that concrete information on these two men is hard to uncover. I’m sorry, Minister, but this truly is all that we could find.”_

Very little is known about what Kenobi and Skywalker were really like. Everyone who knew about the Clone Wars knew about their heroic acts, about their devotion to the Republic and to each other. No one knew what Skywalker’s favorite food had been, or where Kenobi had been born.

What was known was this: they were Kenobi and Skywalker, the last great heroes of the Republic.

In the end, that was all that mattered.


	31. Beyond Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan's desires are more powerful than he'd like them to be.

Anakin tasted like the Force.

And that was such a peculiar thought that it stopped Obi-Wan cold. He pulled back, opened his eyes and tried to work out just what it meant.

Anakin’s eyes were still closed, and he was smiling slightly, lips still parted. His breathing was deep and regular, as if he’d gone into deep meditation. Only Anakin had never quite gotten the knack of that. Obi-Wan reached out with his left hand, stroking his knuckles across Anakin’s cheek – Anakin turned towards the touch, but otherwise remained passive.

“There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t do this,” Obi-Wan whispered, his hand still tracing the lines of Anakin’s face. His other hand was warm under Anakin’s own, on the upper bend of Anakin’s knee, and he found that he had no place in his heart for regret or fear.

“But you want to,” Anakin said, opening his eyes and lifting his gaze to meet Obi-Wan’s. Anakin’s eyes were the vibrant and clear blue of a ‘saber blade, and he’d never looked more like a Jedi.

Obi-Wan cupped the side of Anakin’s face, briefly gliding his thumb across Anakin’s lips, plush and inviting. He leaned forward, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Anakin’s, feeling unsteady. Anakin’s breath was warm and steady, and it was a simple matter of Obi-Wan tilting his head down in just the right way to catch Anakin’s lips again.

It was a soft kiss, a gentle pressing of mouth against mouth, an acknowledgement that Anakin was right – in this moment, Obi-Wan could think of nothing that he wanted more.

He shivered slightly at the danger in that thought and Anakin’s hand squeezed his reassuringly. Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, teasing Anakin’s mouth open, gently pressing forward, slipping his tongue inside. Again, he felt the whispers of something that felt like the Force, prompting the impossible notion that if he just kissed Anakin for long enough, that serenity would work its way back inside him.

He chuckled softly, the sound lost in Anakin’s mouth.

Impossible was the word of the day, after all. That they were here at all, in this time and place. Obi-Wan broke the kiss, feeling the urge to look at Anakin again – they were here, together, and impossible didn’t seem to be the barrier that it used to be.

Anakin was smiling at Obi-Wan, filled with a radiant joy that touched Obi-Wan more deeply than anything he’d ever felt before. He caressed the side of Anakin’s face, the pads of his fingers outlining the edge of an ear, the curve of a jaw, the strong line of Anakin’s neck. Here, it seemed almost safe to admit that there were few prices he wouldn’t be willing to pay to keep Anakin as happy as he was at this moment.

 _This_ was why love was forbidden.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, his voice filled with wonder. “Is this… is this what it’s like, for other Jedi?”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, stroking his fingers over Anakin’s lips.

“Over and over, you’ve told me that the Force is about serenity, not passion,” Anakin said. He paused when one of Obi-Wan’s fingers slipped inside his mouth, closing his lips around it and sucking lightly. Slowly, Obi-Wan drew his finger out, gently rubbing it over Anakin’s full lips. Anakin took a deep breath, very obviously centering himself again as he continued, “And I’ve never believed you, because… because it wasn’t true. Not for me.”

“And now?”

“I can see stars,” Anakin said, brow furrowing in thought. “I can feel the universe. I’m a part of it.”

“We all are, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, sliding his hand to the back of Anakin’s neck, stroking his fingers through the short hairs there.

“But it never felt true before,” Anakin said. “And now….”

“Now?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin’s lips were touching his, almost before Obi-Wan saw him start to move. The kiss wasn’t forceful, but steady and certain, and, instinctively, Obi-Wan gave himself over to it. He felt the pulsing rhythm of the Force, but it wasn’t inside himself at all – suddenly, he realized that what he was feeling was _Anakin’s_ connection to the Force. Anakin was fully open to it, and it was filling him up.

Obi-Wan had always been aware of Anakin’s strength, but if Anakin’s Force-connection had grown so strong that it was spilling over into the world around him, then Anakin’s potential was even greater than he’d ever imagined.

Obi-Wan’s hand had fallen to Anakin’s shoulder, half on the loosened fabric of Anakin’s tunic and half on warm, smooth skin. And now Anakin’s false hand was on the small of Obi-Wan’s back urging him up into Anakin’s kiss. Obi-Wan’s other hand, still tangled with Anakin’s, slid up Anakin’s thigh. Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s hand, breaking their kiss, as he straightened his legs under Obi-Wan and leaned back against the bed, pulling Obi-Wan down on top of him.

The folds of Obi-Wan’s cloak fell around them, suddenly feeling unwieldy, far too warm and heavy. Obi-Wan let go of Anakin, tugging his cloak off impatiently, and then unceremoniously dropping it off the side of the bed.

Anakin was laughing softly, and Obi-Wan found himself joining in, the absurd joy of this moment overwhelming him. Slowly, their laughter faded, and Anakin’s hands moved to Obi-Wan’s waist, as Anakin stared up at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure what to do, to be perfectly honest. He’d shared his bed with a few people, but none of them had been Anakin. None of them had _mattered_ , certainly not in this shaking, bone-deep way. Carefully, Obi-Wan leant down over Anakin, bracing himself on his elbows. Gently, he pressed his lips against the side of Anakin’s neck, darting his tongue out, cataloging the lightly salty taste of Anakin’s skin there. Anakin shuddered under him, tilting his head back, so that Obi-Wan could continue kissing up the column of Anakin’s neck.

One of Anakin’s hands stayed on Obi-Wan’s waist, while his other hand slipped around to the clasp on Obi-Wan’s belt. Obi-Wan pushed himself up, meeting Anakin’s eyes – no hesitation there, just a soft question. Obi-Wan gave a short nod, not trusting himself to speak. He kissed the corner of Anakin’s mouth, and he could feel Anakin working the clasp, pulling the belt and sash out of the way when he was done.

And now Anakin’s callused, strong and very human hand was touching Obi-Wan’s abdomen, stroking across him, exploring him. Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked up and he was struck by the look of _concentration_ on Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan pushed himself upright, pulling off his outer tunic, stripping off the inner, then allowing them both to drop off the bed. Anakin watched carefully, and Obi-Wan felt an odd satisfaction in that, that Anakin would find him such a desirable object of study.

“I need-I need to tell you,” Anakin said, pushing up to trace his hand down the center of Obi-Wan’s body, starting at the base of Obi-Wan’s neck and sliding straight down, stroking over trembling skin. “Obi-Wan, I-“

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan said, catching Anakin’s wrist with his hand. “Please, don’t.”

“Then I’ll show you and… and you can show me,” Anakin said, shifting upright. He was sitting up again now, and Obi-Wan was on his knees, straddling Anakin. Anakin tugged his wrist out of Obi-Wan’s grasp, sliding it securely around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, holding Obi-Wan in place. Then he presented his other hand to Obi-Wan, the glove, as always, covering the replacement arm. “We don’t have to say anything.”

As if that made it any less real, any less dangerous.

Still, Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand in his, feeling the unyielding firmness of durasteel under the soft material of the glove. His other hand was hovering around the top of the glove, and Anakin had to be sensing his hesitation. Slowly, he undid the clasps holding the glove in place, then tugged the fabric down to reveal the alternating steel and gold colors of the false hand. It was warm, of course, but the oddly cool warmth of machinery kept in constant usage, not the heated warmth of flesh.

He never actually had the chance to see it before, not on Anakin. He’d approved the permanent design while Anakin was still on Naboo, wearing the temporary arm that would teach his system how to interact with the intricate interface of the replacement arm. But while he’d been able to realize that it was the best choice, designed to favor usage and sensitivity over realism, somehow Anakin had sensed how uncomfortable the idea of actually seeing it had made him. And Anakin had never taken the glove off while in Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan stroked his fingers over the arm as he pulled the glove off completely and Anakin shivered, as if Obi-Wan were touching real skin. Obi-Wan shifted his gaze to the blank wall over Anakin’s shoulder and then he adjusted his position on Anakin’s lap, spreading his legs slightly, tilting his pelvis up, trusting Anakin’s hold on his shoulders to keep him upright. He let go of Anakin’s hand, moving his hands to his waist, dipping them under the fabric of his pants, and then sliding them down until they were bunched up at the tops of his thighs.

His eyelids slid shut when he felt the firm metal of Anakin’s hand touching his waist. His own hands felt useless, and he grabbed fistfuls of the blanket below, forcing his hips to stay still under Anakin’s touch. This part of Anakin, this inhuman reminder of Obi-Wan’s failure as a teacher, it was still a part of Anakin.

Anakin stroked along Obi-Wan’s body and his touch felt surreal. Anakin was touching him so softly, so gently, as if Obi-Wan might break under him. Under more normal circumstances, that idea would make Obi-Wan laugh, but here and now, the possibility seemed real, the danger true.

Anakin coasted his fingers across Obi-Wan’s hipbone and Obi-Wan’s hips twitched up in response. Obi-Wan heard Anakin sigh quietly, and then the touch returned, Anakin pressing his fingers down more firmly – again, Obi-Wan couldn’t stop the instinctive upward roll of his hips.

Then Anakin’s hand brushed across Obi-Wan’s straining cock, and Obi-Wan felt his brain shiver to a complete halt at the shuddering and eager response of his own body. His mind might have reservations about that hand touching him, but it seemed that his mind was the only part of him that did.

And now Anakin’s hand was wrapped around him and Anakin’s lips were pressed against his again. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, encouraging Anakin’s kiss to deepen, licking up into Anakin’s mouth. Anakin’s Force-connection flickered against him, giving him tiny flashes of need and desire.

Anakin pulled out of the kiss, but only to move his mouth to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, sucking gently at the place Obi-Wan’s shoulder met his neck. Obi-Wan’s eyes opened, and Anakin’s hand was shining, reflecting the light of the room, as it worked gentle and slow over Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan pressed back against Anakin’s other hand, watching as he bucked up into Anakin’s hand. He felt unbearably close, but he couldn’t speak, not even to warn Anakin.

Anakin was whispering now, tiny snatches of nothing against Obi-Wan’s skin, his hot and unsteady breath a counterpoint to the certain touch of his hand. None of the words that Anakin was saying meant anything when set against what he wasn’t saying, what Obi-Wan had asked him not to say.

And refusing to say the words didn’t stop them from being true.

Anakin’s hand twisted on Obi-Wan, tightening slightly. Obi-Wan let out a soft moan, his head falling back and his body straining upward, muscles tensing. His hips snapped up one last time, and then Obi-Wan shuddered in release.

And he was panting and Anakin was still holding him so tenderly, and Obi-Wan still couldn’t speak. He allowed himself to relax against Anakin, his hands letting go of the blanket, leaning forward to press against Anakin, trapping the sticky-wetness of his orgasm between their bodies. Anakin was still talking, and Obi-Wan tried to focus enough to listen to him.

“-and when I saved you on Cestina III, I had to take off your tunic to tend your wound,” Anakin said. “And you trembled under my touch then, too. I thought it was just that you were hurt, but it wasn’t, was it?”

“You were seventeen,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin looked down at him, looking slightly surprised, either because he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan was listening or he hadn’t realized that he was talking out loud. “You were just a child, Anakin.”

“Seventeen is over the age of consent on Coruscant,” Anakin pointed out.

“One’s Padawan is _never_ over the age of consent,” Obi-Wan said, firmly. Anakin chuckled, running his hands over Obi-Wan’s back, settling into more exploration.

Obi-Wan reached up and stroked the side of Anakin’s face, sure that he’d pay for this reckless choice in the end.

But equally certain that this was well worth the price.


	32. Light Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has a frustrating encounter.

_"-I’m sorry, Minister, but this truly is all that we could find.”_

The holoprojecter dimmed, the data slip automatically ejecting. Luke placed it in a small pouch on his belt, next to his lightsaber. He leaned against the wall, the young, sad face of that first image of Anakin Skywalker still hovering in his mind.

“I wonder what her name was.”

With the words came a sudden splash of _being_ in the Force, a very identifiable one.

“So, you finally decided to show up,” Luke said, looking over his shoulder. Even his mild irritation couldn't hide the warmth in his voice.

Ben was sitting in one of the straight-backed chairs of the meeting room, his bluish-white glow flickering clearly in the low lighting Luke had set the room to when he’d entered. Ben was bent over slightly, his chin cupped in his hand, fingers thoughtfully stroking at his beard.

“I was in the system,” he said, glancing over at Luke, a smile in his eyes. “I thought I could drop by, see how you’re doing.”

“If you know what’s going on, _tell_ me,” Luke said, turning his back against the wall as he stared at Ben, expectantly. “And… the whole truth, not just the part you want me to know right now.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” Ben said, placing his hands on his knees, brow furrowed. “The little that I know about this situation isn’t actually very useful.”

“Tell me anyway,” Luke said. Ben smiled at him, gesturing him over to take a seat.  

“Hmm. To start with, it involves something that I’ve been struggling with for some time,” Ben said, settling back in his chair. Luke watched him for a moment, then settled down in a chair next to him, resting an arm on the nearby meeting table. “The short version?”

“If you could,” Luke said.

“I know why… why the younger Obi-Wan can’t use the Force,” Ben said, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

“And?” Luke asked.

“A person’s Force-connection is… unique, a pathway to the Force that is designed solely for their use,” Ben said. “Putting it as simply as possibly, Obi-Wan can’t use the Force because he’s _already_ using it.”

“So, the fact that you’re still around means that-“

“That I am, in essence, blocking his access to the Force. He can’t reach it because I’m in the way,” Ben said, sounding mildly embarrassed.

“Wait, why isn’t Anakin having problems?” Luke asked.

“Ah, that,” Ben said. “Well, it’s a bit complicated.”

“As simply as possible,” Luke said, throwing Ben's words back at him.

“He’s _not_ in the way,” Ben said. “As a matter of fact, both Anakin and Yoda fully rejoined the Force after that celebration on Endor.”

“But not you,” Luke said, cocking his head.

“It’s not as though I could _foresee_ my younger self coming to the future,” Ben pointed out, stepping around the subject. “I didn’t know that I’d need the connection. Still, the problem remains.”

“So, what happens now?” Luke asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Well, there is a fairly simple solution,” Ben said. “I allow myself to fade into the Force.”

“And then you’d be gone,” Luke said, slowly.

“I would, yes,” Ben said, glancing away from Luke.

“You didn’t explain yet _why_ my father and Yoda choose to join the Force and you didn’t,” Luke said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ben asked.

“No,” Luke said. “It isn’t.”

“Anakin left almost immediately – he’d severed his need to hold onto this world just before he died. He stayed only so that you might have the chance to truly see _him_ , Anakin Skywalker, and not Darth Vader. Master Yoda did not take long to follow him,” Ben said. “And then I tried and found…”

“What?” Luke asked.

“That I was not ready to leave,” Ben said, meeting Luke's eyes. “You must understand -- when I appeared to you after my death, no Jedi had done such a thing for a thousand years. All of the Jedi who came before are with us, in the Force, but merely as part of the fabric of the whole. They cannot interact with the world as you do. But I can. Here and now, I can _feel_ this chair that I’m sitting on. I’m still attached to this universe, physically attached.”

Ben reached out, his half-transparent hand stroking Luke’s cheek. Ben’s touch felt... like standing a step away from a fire. Close enough to feel the heat, but not close enough to truly burn.

“I’m still attached to _you_ , dear child,” Ben said, quietly. “From the very moment you were born, I loved you. That love has never wavered or faded, only strengthened with time.”

“And that’s what's keeping you here,” Luke said. “You can’t leave because… because you don’t really want to.”

“Yes,” Ben said, pulling his hand away. Luke felt oddly cold. “You managed to sum it up quite well.”

“So, Obi-Wan will have his… connection back when he returns to the past,” Luke said, decisively. Ben's mouth twisted slightly and he looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Well, yes,” Ben said. “ _If_ he returns to the past, one would assume that he would once again be the only person trying to be Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“You don’t think they’ll be able to go back,” Luke said, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m still rather bewildered by them being here at all,” Ben admitted easily. “And to get back, they have to first find out how they got here. And they haven’t had much success so far.”

Ben paused.

“They’d probably have more luck if they didn’t keep getting distracted,” he said, with a half-smile.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” Ben said, his voice an odd mixture of ominous foreshadowing and rueful amusement.

“Ben,” Luke said.

“Try not to think too badly of Anakin. He’s likely doing his best,” Ben said. “And now, I really must go. Things to do.”

“What things?” Luke asked, but Ben was already fading from view. Luke sighed in frustration. “You’re a ghost. There’s a limit to how busy you can be!”

Luke settled back in the chair, his fingers tapping against the pouch the data slip was resting in. Leia might be interested in seeing it, once he’d met back up with her.

He stretched out his senses to look for her, and noticed a room-sized shielded area in the building. That _had_ to be Anakin’s doing, but Luke couldn’t see why Anakin had felt the burning need for some privacy.

Maybe he just didn’t trust Luke.

Luke sighed, again, and continued to search for Leia, finally locating her some distance from the building, but approaching rapidly. Leia had probably realized where Luke was, earlier, and was currently bullying Han into coming over to pick him up.

Han wasn’t a big fan of the New Republic’s administration building. Or of the New Republic’s administration in general.

‘Talking to bureaucrats is as dull as watching a ship rust’ had been his exact words. And so Han avoided the place as much as he could, which wasn’t much, considering that Leia was bound and determined to have as much influence on the direction of the new government as possible and thus insisted on spending a lot of time in the building whenever they were on Coruscant. And Leia was good at getting her way.

Luke grinned and got up from his chair, making his way towards the rooftop landing platform. He’d rejoin Leia and Han, and then they’d figure out the next step.

It always worked out best when it was the three of them, together.


	33. A Question of Ownership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Leia meet up with Luke, who has a lot on his mind.

Leia let out an unsteady breath and Han glanced over at her, noticing that her knuckles were white from holding onto the arms of her chair. She’d been jumpy for the last fifteen minutes and he couldn’t wait to ask anymore.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Han asked, as he landed gently on his designated strip on top of the New Republic’s administration building. He wasn’t all that thrilled that he _had_ his own strip. Sure, he was settling down and even had plans to get married in three months’ time, but that didn’t mean that he needed to _literally_ settle down somewhere, even somewhere as fast-paced and mercenary as Coruscant. Han needed space to breathe, after all.

“Luke’s… not happy,” Leia said.

“Okay, I don’t think you could have made that less helpful if you’d tried,” Han said. Leia shrugged, looking out the cockpit window, towards the rooftop door. She could probably sense Luke right now. And as the person who sensed Luke in any way, he might think that she’d feel obligated to clear things up. Sure, he could figure out Luke’s intentions after giving the kid a good staring-at, but it’d be nice to know before, at least once in a while.

“There’s nothing more specific than that,” she said. “I can’t read his mind, Han. I just get the general idea, not the details.”

“Doesn’t really seem like the most useful gift in the world,” Han grumbled. “Give me five seconds looking at him and _I_ can tell you what Luke’s feeling.”

“Well, I can tell you that he’s about to walk through that door down there,” Leia said, getting up from her seat. Han saw the door push open, a figure making its way outside.

“And I can tell you that he’s just walked through it,” Han said, getting up and following Leia down to the cargo bay door. “What good is a one-second warning system?”

“In some situations, a one-second warning is _invaluable_ ,” Leia said.

“Not here, though,” Han pointed out, casually slamming his hand on the button that opened the door.

“Well, no, not here,” Leia said. “But in some situations.”

Luke hopped up onto the ramp before it had finished lowering, easily keeping his balance as it hit the ground. One of his hands was fingering a side pouch on his belt and, at first, it seemed like he was too distracted to notice that they were waiting for him. Then he blinked and looked at them, the look in his eyes sharpening.

“Hi, Leia, Han,” he said. He glanced around the cargo hold. “Where’s Threepio?”

“How should I know?” Han asked. “He’s off in some corner of the ship, doing who knows what.”

“He _is_ behaving oddly,” Leia said, reaching out to touch Luke’s arm. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Actually, I do,” Luke said, and he looked a little guilty, from what Han could see. “Apparently, Threepio used to belong to our father.”

“What?” Leia said, stepping away from Luke and waving Han away when he started towards her. “No, that’s impossible. He was a member of Captain Antilles’ staff for as long as I can remember. He’s an _Alderaan_ droid.”

“They wiped his memory, after… after Anakin fell to the dark side,” Luke said. “And then Anakin brought it back.”

“He brought back…” Leia said. “No, he has to be lying. Maybe he reprogrammed Threepio, but there’s no way he could reverse a memory-wipe. When a droid’s memory is erased, it’s just gone. There’s nothing to bring back.”

“That’s what I thought, at first, but it’s the truth,” Luke said. “And that’s why I’d really like to talk to Threepio.”

“I used to play with him, when I was a child,” Leia said, distantly. “He would fuss about me getting my clothes dirty and try to tell me to be careful.”

“Leia…” Luke said, softly. Leia looked up at him, and then shook her head.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “It just seems that everything goes back to _him_. Threepio used to be a reminder of home, of my family.” She paused then, her voice shaking slightly as she held Luke’s gaze. “My adoptive family.”

Han reached out again, and this time, Leia let him wrap his arms around her. She was trembling, like she had that night on Endor, after Luke had gone off on his own.

“He really reversed a memory-wipe?” Han asked Luke quietly, as he stroked Leia’s hair.

“Actually, apparently what he did was protect against the wipe in the first place,” Luke said. “He had back-ups of Threepio’s memory buried in subroutines.”

“That’s… pretty impressive,” Han said, remembering Anakin’s sure hands with Han’s engine. And Leia’d been right, about the _Falcon_ running a little smoother after Anakin had tinkered with it. “He’s quite the mechanic.”

“So it seems,” Luke said.

“He’s just full of surprises,” Leia said, pulling away from Han, a determined look on her face. “You’re right, Luke. We need more information. We need to talk to Threepio.”

“Well, we have to find him first,” Luke said. Han rolled his eyes and hit the cargo bay's main comm button.

“Attention to See-Threepio. Get your shiny gold ass down to the cargo hold. Luke wants to see you,” Han said, leaning forward towards the panel. His words echoed through the ship.

“Or we could just call for him,” Luke said, raising an eyebrow and smiling at Han.

“If I let you, you’d do everything the hard way," Han said, reaching forward and ruffling Luke’s hair. “It’s not always as tough as all that.”

“And on the subject of learning more about Vader, Han has something to tell you,” Leia said.

“Oh, I do, do I?” Han asked, shooting Leia an annoyed look. She just smirked at him.

“What is it?” Luke asked earnestly.

“Well, my contact may have known him,” Han said, as casually as possible. Luke’s eyes widened slightly. “At least, he implied that he’d known a Jedi that was named Skywalker. It’s not that uncommon a name, so it might not be about your old man, but there’s a good chance.”

“Han, you were around ten or so when the Old Republic fell, weren’t you?” Luke asked, looking thoughtful. Han shrugged. “Everyone keeps telling me that Anakin was famous, so why don’t you remember him?”

“I do,” Han said, wincing at the looks the twins gave him. “Hey, it’s nothing helpful. Honestly, I didn’t even remember until my contact Dex mentioned that it was interesting that the Jedi I’d been hanging out with was a Skywalker. And I was never much for heroes, even when I was a kid.”

Hell, he hadn’t even connected Luke with that Skywalker, not until he’d thought about it – why would he, after all? Skywalker had been on the HoloNet all the time and he’d never acted like someone who’d just had a pair of kids.

“Even a little is more than I know,” Luke said.

“I just remember that there were kids who thought that Kenobi and Skywalker could ignite stars and turn back time if they wanted to,” Han said. “There was this girl, Her-un, probably around twelve – she wore black for over a year after Kenobi was killed. Which apparently he wasn’t, so she shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Leia asked, hesitantly.

“After they died… didn’t die, whatever, nobody talked about them,” Han said. “They were supposed to save us all. They didn’t.”

Han stopped there. He’d locked away his childhood when the Empire had risen. There was no point in going over it now. Kenobi and Skywalker – they were kid stuff, proven by this new appearance of them. This Kenobi and Skywalker weren’t what he remembered. Skywalker sure as hell hadn't turned out to be a hero, in the end.

And he hadn’t even realized until recently that Luke’s Kenobi had been _that_ Kenobi, because Kenobi had been believed dead for almost twenty years.

Luke wasn’t the only one seeing ghosts, these days.

“There’s something that I think you two need to see,” Luke said, pulling something out of that pouch he’d been playing with. It appeared to be a data chip. “We’ll need a projector.”

“There’s still that old one over in the corner,” Han said, waving towards it. “Haven’t had a chance to unload it yet.”

“Do you really think that you will?” Leia asked. “How many people are in the market for a ten-year-old holoprojector?”

“More than you’d think,” Han said, defensively.

“You got ripped off,” Leia said. “You might as well just dump it.”

“I’ll sell it. It’s still good, I just need to find the right sort of buyer,” Han said.

“Good luck with that,” Leia muttered.

The holoprojector slowly whirred on, and a soft-spoken female voice said, “This is one of the few files-”

Luke hit a button on the projector, halting the recording.

“Hey, I thought you wanted us to watch that,” Han objected.

“I was just thinking that it might be a good idea to wait for Threepio,” Luke said. “He might have more answers for us.”

“More answers about what, Master Luke?” Threepio asked from behind Han. Han turned around slowly, and yeah, Threepio was looking a little odd. Distracted, if that was the right word to use for a droid.

“Do you know who Qui-Gon Jinn is?” Luke asked, intently.

“Qui-Gon Jinn?” Threepio repeated. “Why, yes, I do. He’s the Jedi that took Master Anakin away.”

“What happened to him?” Luke asked.

“Well, he must have died,” Threepio said.

“You don’t know?” Luke asked. “But I thought you were Anakin’s droid.”

“Master Anakin didn’t take me with him the first time he left, sir,” Threepio said. “It was when he returned with your mother and Artoo that he reclaimed me. And that was… over ten years later.”

“Wait, so you stayed on Tatooine for ten years?” Luke asked. “Where?”

“First, with Master Anakin’s mother and with Master Watto,” Threepio said. “Later, after Master Anakin’s mother married Cliegg Lars, we lived with them.”

“Who’s… Watto?” Leia asked, tilting her head.

“Why, he was Master Anakin’s owner,” Threepio said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“Owner?” Luke asked, and Han winced.

“He was a slave?” Leia asked. Her lips pressed together thoughtfully and her words were quiet, as if she were talking to herself. “I thought slavery was against the law in the Old Republic.”

“Tatooine has always been run by the Hutts,” Luke said, distastefully. “And they have nothing against slavery.”

“Quite true,” Threepio said. “Mistress Shmi, that was Master Anakin’s mother, was very happy when Master Qui-Gon took him away to become a Jedi. She talked about him all the time, and she always mentioned how wonderful it was that he was free.”

“No one ever mentioned it,” Luke said. “Uncle Owen told me that he’d been a good pilot, like me. That he’d piloted a freighter and that he’d died very soon after I was born. When I was sixteen, Aunt Beru told me once that he was very brave, the only human to ever win a Podrace. I can remember going and checking the town records, seeing his name there. It mentioned that he was sponsored by a parts store, but nothing about being _owned_.”

"Hey, kid, he got away from it,” Han said, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “He got out.”

“But this… this could explain so much,” Luke said, passionate and determined. “I just… need to work out _how_.”

Han sighed and started wondering if he'd actually get a chance to sleep tonight.


	34. Lies and Fairytales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin just wants his due.

Anakin’s lips pressed against the top of Obi-Wan’s head, and Anakin breathed in deep, basking in the sex-soaked scent of Obi-Wan like this, sated and still trembling from release. Obi-Wan’s right hand had fallen to the side of Anakin’s neck, warmly clinging to him, Obi-Wan’s callused but gentle fingers idly stroking Anakin’s skin, while his other hand was securely wrapped around Anakin’s waist, one finger dipping slightly below the top of Anakin’s pants.

Anakin was hard, and Obi-Wan’s body was pushed right up against him, reminding him of it every moment. There was nothing Anakin wanted more than to roll Obi-Wan over, strip him naked, and then rub against him until Anakin, too, came.

But something inside Anakin muttered and told him that that just wasn’t good enough. It was the same instinct that had told him to back away from Padmé after she’d regretted their first kiss, to offer himself and then be grateful if he was accepted. Obi-Wan had already said that they should not do this. He had… doubts. And that was not acceptable.

Obi-Wan was his master, Padmé was his wife. Anakin belonged to them, would belong to them even if they tried to deny him. Anakin pressed his lips together at the white-hot burst of anger that appeared at that thought. Glad for the moment that Obi-Wan was blind to the Force.

He rubbed his hand down Obi-Wan’s back, feeling an intense stab of tenderness when his fingers paused at a thin line that ran halfway across the length of the small of Obi-Wan’s back. The scar from Torval Prime. He’d had to take care of Obi-Wan for two weeks by himself, and Obi-Wan had turned sick and feverish by the end. The healers had called it blood poisoning, when he’d finally managed to get Obi-Wan back to the Temple.

Obi-Wan had almost died, and all that was left was that one mark and Anakin’s memories.

“So many times, you almost died,” he whispered into Obi-Wan’s hair.

“I’m not the only one,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back and looking at Anakin. “We’re Jedi Knights, Anakin. It is our duty to protect the Republic. A duty that entails no small amount of risk.”

“I know that,” Anakin said, fondly stroking a hand through the red-gold strands of Obi-Wan’s hair. In the aftermath of touching Obi-Wan, even a lecture seemed profoundly intimate. “I worry, that’s all.”

“That used be my job,” Obi-Wan said, but he’d tilted his head up into Anakin’s touch.

“Master, I worried about you quite often, even when I was still your Padawan,” Anakin said.

“I can’t think of why,” Obi-Wan said, blandly. Anakin choked back a surprised laugh, and he could feel Obi-Wan’s amusement. “You know, Master Windu just recently told me that I’m a credit to the Order.”

Anakin snorted. Of course, Master Windu would say that. Windu had been trying to steal Obi-Wan’s loyalty away for as long as Anakin could remember. And Anakin was certain that Windu had been a large part of why Obi-Wan had become a member of Council recently, and Anakin had suspected that he’d done it so that he could attempt to exert even more influence over Obi-Wan.

“We _could_ start with your recklessness in battle,” Anakin said. He slid a hand along Obi-Wan’s leg, bunching up the fabric of Obi-Wan’s pants. “Or I could mention your rather distasteful habit of drinking on duty.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, daring Anakin to continue.

“There’s the way you insist on playing by the Council’s rules, even when I can tell that you disagree,” Anakin said, laying his other hand flat on the bed. “The arrogance you show when you utterly disregard something you don’t think is important enough to be a threat.”

“Well, I sound like quite the monster,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I can’t even begin to imagine why you want to share my bed.”

Anakin quirked a smile at Obi-Wan, then moved into action, pushing off his braced hand and twisting Obi-Wan down onto the bed, under Anakin. Obi-Wan chuckled, relaxed and willing. Anakin leaned over Obi-Wan, kissed him until Obi-Wan was done laughing, until Obi-Wan was panting into Anakin’s mouth, breathless and needy.

“You’re right,” Anakin said firmly, pausing to press another kiss at the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth, Obi-Wan’s beard rubbing rough against his lips. “You are far too rule-bound and rigid. I don’t want you at all, not the least bit.”

“Yes, that’s quite obvious,” Obi-Wan said, shifting under Anakin.

“You’re demanding and almost impossible to please,” Anakin said, punctuating his words with a kiss to Obi-Wan’s jawline. “And you never let me have any fun.”

“Jedi aren’t allowed to have fun,” Obi-Wan said, but the seriousness of his voice was undercut by the way his hand was teasingly caressing the dip of Anakin’s back. “I’m sure that it’s in the Code.”

“Probably in the same section that forbids this,” Anakin said, glancing up at Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan-”

“Shh…” Obi-Wan murmured, pushing up against Anakin, wrapping an arm around Anakin’s shoulder to bring them closer. It was a blatant attempt to distract Anakin from getting overly emotional. Anakin allowed it to work anyway, rocking his hips back against Obi-Wan’s, flashes of want echoing through his body.

Obi-Wan’s other hand was tugging at the top of Anakin’s pants, trying to pull them down. Anakin helped Obi-Wan out with a careful wriggle, the material and Obi-Wan’s hand moving downward. Anakin leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan’s shoulder, messy and needy, while Obi-Wan slid his hand down to Anakin’s ass, strong fingers pressing in suggestively.

Anakin gasped, his muscles tensing. Obi-Wan held him still, gently but firmly not allowing Anakin to move. But Anakin could, if he chose to. He could easily break Obi-Wan’s hold, could force Obi-Wan’s fingers away. He could.

Instead, Anakin relaxed, deliberate and slow.

They were so close now, Anakin blanketing Obi-Wan, not even a breath of air between them anymore. His left leg had fallen down in between Obi-Wan’s at some point, and his still-hard cock was pressed against Obi-Wan’s thigh. If he pushed up from where he was, he’d be able to kiss Obi-Wan again.

But Obi-Wan’s fingers were caressing him, and Anakin didn’t dare move, almost didn’t dare breathe.

And Obi-Wan just seemed… curious, battle-roughed fingertips skating over vulnerable skin. Anakin mouthed Obi-Wan’s shoulder, too clumsy for kissing anymore. A few more breathless moments passed, Obi-Wan’s touch dipping down briefly while Anakin felt him yearning.

Then, Obi-Wan’s hand moved to the safer territory of the small of Anakin’s back, and Anakin could breathe again.

Anakin shifted, propping himself up on his elbows. Obi-Wan’s expression was guarded, but in the shadows of his eyes, Anakin could see the remnants of longing. How long had Obi-Wan wanted this, and hated himself for the wanting?

How old had Anakin been, the first time that Obi-Wan had ached for him?

Anakin held the thought for a moment, and then released it as irrelevant. Obi-Wan wanted him now, and that was what mattered. Anakin bent down, touching his lips to Obi-Wan’s, pressing his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth, wondering if there was any way to encourage Obi-Wan to act on that longing.

Not tonight, most likely. Obi-Wan truly was exhausted, that much was obvious to Anakin, and he would need to rest soon.

Soon, but not immediately. And _not_ still in his boots.

Anakin broke out of the kiss, and Obi-Wan let him, watching him with wary eyes. Anakin pushed himself up to his knees, tugging his pants back up so that he could spread his legs far enough, and surveyed Obi-Wan, who was a rather delightful mess. His hair was completely disordered, his body shone with sweat and was still marked with dried whitish streaks from Anakin’s work earlier, and his cock lay outlined by his hastily pushed-down pants, almost shockingly pale now against the auburn hair surrounding it.

Anakin shifted backward, reaching down to tap the top of Obi-Wan’s left boot. Obi-Wan obligingly bent his knee slightly, bringing the clasp within easy reach. Anakin worked the clasp loose, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan’s breathing, which had been steady for the last few minutes, started to quicken again as Anakin continued to leisurely unbuckle the clasps.

“When I was a child, I would dream of escape,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, but he was clearly having a hard time concentrating on Anakin’s words. “I would dream of flying, of being next to the stars.”

He slipped a finger under the top of Obi-Wan’s boot, and started to tug the boot off, taking the opportunity to lightly caress Obi-Wan’s leg, to feel in exquisite detail the differences between Obi-Wan and Padmé, the only other person he’d been intimate with. Obi-Wan’s leg was hairy, muscled. It felt worlds away from Padmé, whose every inch of skin was as soft and smooth as the water lapping over the shore.

“I thought if I won the big Podrace and proved my worth, that I might earn my freedom,” Anakin continued, tossing the boot over to the corner to join Anakin’s discarded pair. “And I did. I did. I won my freedom. I saved myself.”

“Saved us all,” Obi-Wan said, breath coming in erratic pants. Anakin watched in fascination for few seconds, hands wrapped loosely around Obi-Wan’s ankle.

“Yes, I did,” Anakin said finally, gliding a hand up Obi-Wan’s leg, and then pushing Obi-Wan’s leg back down to the bed. Obi-Wan shifted before Anakin needed to say anything, moving so that he could bring his other leg up. Anakin smiled approvingly and Obi-Wan glared at him for a moment for that, though apparently he couldn’t work up any annoyed words. “I saved us, and then I saved Naboo, too.”

Anakin began working on Obi-Wan’s second boot, moving more swiftly. Obi-Wan’s pulse was fast again now, his skin flushing with heat and his cock stirring.

“I _earned_ the right to be a Padawan,” Anakin said, fiercely. Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed in thought, even as he trembled under Anakin’s touch. “To be _your_ Padawan.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched slightly, and Anakin felt a flash of amusement from him.Anakin’s hands stilled and he stared down at Obi-Wan, who quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That’s a bit of revisionist history, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked in a soft voice after taking a few deep, centering breaths.

“I don’t _care_ ,” Anakin said, pulling off Obi-Wan’s other boot with shaking hands and tossing it away to join the first. Briefly, he pressed his lips together, searching for control. “It sounds better that way, doesn’t it, Master? That you were the only one?”

“That doesn’t make it true, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. He reached up, his hand pressing against Anakin’s chest. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

“I’m not,” Anakin said, annoyed at the petulant sound of his own voice. This lecture didn’t feel intimate or special at all. It just felt like a lecture. “He didn’t _matter_.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan said, and his words were shaded with reproach. “Don’t say that. Don't _ever_ say that. You never would have left Tatooine if not for Qui-Gon.”

“You-“

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, pulling his hand away from Anakin’s chest, looking away from Anakin, reaching down to pull his pants back up over himself. “I wouldn’t have. You know me well enough for that. I wouldn’t have dreamed of helping to free one little slave boy, no matter how powerful he was.”

“You would have. You would have known that I was special,” Anakin said, defiantly, uselessly. Still, when Obi-Wan started to shift off the bed, Anakin reached out and stopped him with one soft touch on his waist. Obi-Wan met Anakin’s apologetic gaze, and Anakin could almost see his edges soften. “You would have, I _know_ you would.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin ignored the tiny stab of pity in Obi-Wan’s thoughts. Obi-Wan’s hand was cupping Anakin’s face, tender and soft, and that was all that mattered. Obi-Wan's words were just noise, just play-acting. “Don’t think so highly of me.”

And then Obi-Wan’s arms were wrapped around him, warm and strong, and it was easy for Anakin to believe himself. Obi-Wan was urging him to sleep, and Anakin wanted nothing more than to keep Obi-Wan safe and near for the rest of his life.

But that wasn’t long enough, not nearly long enough.

Anakin slipped off towards sleep, that last thought twisting circles in his head, as he remembered Luke talking about ghosts. About living forever.


	35. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia and Luke get a chance to explore their past.

Leia watched Luke carefully – she could _feel_ him weighing the knowledge of Anakin’s time as a slave. Leia wasn’t entirely sure why it made so much of a difference. Obviously, Anakin hadn’t been a slave for too long – that Jedi that Luke had mentioned, Qui-Gon Jinn, had saved him. Yes, the scars of being ordered around might last a while, but Leia wouldn’t stand for Luke building up a case for forgiving Anakin because of that.

Leia shivered a little, her mind casting up the memory of Jabba the Hutt, leering down at her, his tail wagging suggestively.

But _Vader’s_ slavery wouldn’t have been anything like that, in any case.

“You were going to show us something,” Han said, interrupting the quiet of the moment. Luke glanced over at him, and nodded. Then he looked over at Threepio, and Leia could feel a depth of caution that she understood, now.

“Threepio, you’re the one here who can tell us the most about what we’re going to watch,” Luke said. “I’m counting on you.”

“I will do my best, Master Luke,” Threepio said, solemnly. He didn’t look any different – he was still _Threepio_ , but knowing that he’d been created by Vader… it changed things.

“Thank you,” Luke said, and he restarted the data chip. Leia placed the vaguely familiar voice as Juria Lelen, one of Mothma’s most trusted aides, and a very intelligent young woman.

 _“Of particular interest is this glimpse at a young Anakin Skywalker, who was to be one of the heroes of the Clone Wars.”_

Hearing the slight awe in Juria’s voice, Leia wondered, and not for the first time, if she should tell the New Republic that Darth Vader had once been Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. Mon Mothma was a great leader, but she was instilling a certain amount of mysticism in her pupils that Leia wasn’t entirely comfortable with. But as it was, Mothma was Luke’s greatest supporter in the New Republic. That might not be the case if she knew the truth.

A holorecorder image sprung up now, of a child about eight or nine standard years old. An old-fashioned training braid hung behind one ear, and he was dressed in the same loose robes that the Jedi always seemed to wear in the pictures Leia had been shown.

Anakin.

His face was round-cheeked and his eyes were sharp, and he didn’t _look_ mistreated, though he looked oddly fragile. His voice was child-high and strained, but for all that, he had a flat undertone in his voice that sharply reminded her of… well, Vader. The part of his voice that would remain intact, through whatever vile technology he’d used to keep himself alive, was already present in this younger version.

And that helped Leia remember that this wasn’t just any child.

 _“…by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who brought me before the Council and asked that I be made his Padawan. The Council refused then, but due to exten-extenuating circumstances, I request now to appeal that decision and to be permitted the rank of Padawan Learner under Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.”_

Luke halted the recording, freezing the image of the young Anakin, his face pale, blinking back tears.

“Qui-Gon _must_ have died sometime before this recording was made,” Luke said, thoughtfully. “Threepio, how old was Anakin when he left Tatooine?”

“Well, I’m certain that I don’t know,” Threepio said. “But he was around the same age he appears to be in that hologram.”

“Wait, he made you before this?” Leia asked.

“Yes, for his mother,” Threepio answered.

“He built a droid when he was nine,” Leia said, not quite able to believe it.

“So, he only knew this Qui-Gon Jinn for… a year at most,” Luke said. “Maybe two if he aged slowly.”

“No one ages slowly when they’re that young,” Leia said.

“It was less than a year,” Han said, abruptly. Leia turned towards him, noticing that he looked unusually grim and guarded. “Jinn died at the battle of Naboo, Kenobi and Skywalker’s first fight together.”

“Why-“

“Why didn’t I say this earlier,” Han said, cutting Leia’s words off. “Because I just didn’t remember, okay. I’m not trying to hide things. I just…”

“You weren’t ready to think about it yet?” Luke asked.

“Maybe,” Han said.

“Are you ready now?” Luke asked, and he and Han shared a long glance that Leia couldn’t quite read.

“I honestly didn’t remember,” Han said finally, with a shrug that was probably supposed to look careless. “Like I said, Kenobi and Skywalker were kid stuff, pre-Empire stuff. Afterwards, they weren’t important. Hell, we all thought they were dead. After a while, we figured that they were lucky to have died, not to see what’d happened to their Republic.”

Han scrubbed a hand over his eyes, lips tight and bloodless.

“Do you know anything else about Qui-Gon Jinn?” Luke asked, gently.

“I just knew that he was Kenobi’s master. Never even heard that Skywalker wanted to train with him,” Han said. He moved one step toward the projector, staring at the image of Anakin. “He died more than ten years before the First Clone War started, which is when Kenobi and Skywalker started making the HoloNet. Anyway, Jinn was just another Jedi. Nothing special.”

“Wait, you said that he was Obi-Wan’s teacher?” Luke asked. Han nodded. Luke bit his lip, looking reflective. “I wonder why Ben never mentioned him. He only told me about Yoda.”

After a moment, Luke reached out and restarted the recording.

A young Obi-Wan Kenobi, probably around Luke’s age, appeared at the side of the hologram, coming forward to speak to the child Anakin. Leia tilted her head after a moment – Obi-Wan made no attempt to get on Anakin’s level and his sole comfort to Anakin was a light touch on the shoulder. It didn’t seem adequate, not when Anakin was clearly on the edge of tears.

So at first, it was a bit of a relief when the recording ended, and Juria’s voice came in again.

But the audio that followed left Leia breathless.

 _“I suppose that I really do feel that he killed her.”_

“I need to speak to Juria,” she said, immediately. “If I can talk to her, I might be able to get the name of that woman out of her. And if a relative of Obi-Wan’s is alive, his sister-“

“It won’t mean anything,” Luke said, and she could feel a weariness in him. “You heard the recording, Leia. He never tried to contact his mother. Not once.”

“But if he knew he had a sister still alive, wouldn’t that change things?” Leia said. “If he knew for certain that he had _family_ , maybe that would help him.”

“So, we tell him,” Han said. “And leave the choices up to him.”

And that made enough sense to all three of them. The security holo that was next on the data chip caught Leia’s attention when her father was mentioned. He’d always spoken highly of General Kenobi, but to see that respect so clearly returned… it warmed her heart.

And here, Anakin and Obi-Wan looked much as they did in the flesh – Anakin didn’t have the braid he’d had as a child, and Obi-Wan had a beard. But when she looked carefully, she noticed a scar over this Anakin’s right eye. And that was an accessory that their current Anakin did _not_ have.

What could have happened to him that would have left a scar? Or had he chosen not to have it healed?

Leia was still running possibilities over in her mind after the holo had moved on, but then Han told Luke to ‘shut that blasted thing off’ and she looked up again, to see the half-hidden face of the Emperor.

“Han-“

“Look, Luke, I’m tired,” Han said, but he sounded a lot closer to angry than tired. “If you want to watch that thing, go ahead. I’m going to go to sleep.”

He turned and headed out of the cargo bay, and when Leia reached out to him, he just shook her hand off and kept going, not saying a word.

Leia just stood there for a moment. Han hadn’t seemed to want company, but that was sometimes when he needed it most. On the other hand, Luke wasn’t the image of happiness right now either.

And she wasn’t thrilled either, to be perfectly frank.

“I recognize this recording. It’s the Emperor’s announcement of the possible Wookiee rebellion,” Leia said, softly. “He used it as his excuse to kill and enslave most of the population of Kashyyyk.”

“So, let’s _not_ show the holo to Chewie, then,” Luke said, leaning back against the wall, and reaching out to shut down the projector. Leia walked over to him, wrapped an arm around his waist. He welcomed her touch, as always. “How’d this get so complicated?”

“I wish I knew,” Leia said, leaning her head against Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s arm slipped around her back, and they just stayed there for a moment, together.

“Princess Leia,” Threepio said, breaking the stillness, and Leia glanced over him, surprised. The three of them had gotten so involved in talking at each other that that she’d forgotten that he was even there – she’d never known him to be quiet for so long. “I almost forgot to tell you -- Senator Reilia said that she would be _pleased_ to meet with you. She’s on Coruscant now, and will be for the next three weeks. She said that she would be more than willing to meet you in between appointments.”

“I expected as much. Alderaan had a very close relationship with Naboo,” Leia said. “And now I know why.”

“Naboo?” Luke asked, and Leia could feel a hope start to fill him up. “Is this… is this about our mother?”

“It is,” Leia said, grinning up at Luke. “I’m hoping that some of her family is still alive.”

“They are,” Threepio said, and then he cringed back when he received the full force of Leia and Luke’s intent stares.

“Of course, you _remember_ her now,” Luke said. “Tell us about her.”

“Everything that you know,” Leia added eagerly.

“That could take some time,” Threepio said. “Master Anakin lent me to Miss Padmé soon after he reclaimed me, and I was in her service for three years.”

“We have time,” Leia said.

“We have all night,” Luke said.

“I suppose that I should start at the beginning, then. I do seem to be telling quite a few stories recently,” Threepio said. Leia shared an amused glance with Luke before turning her full attention back to Threepio. “Well, Miss Padmé was the first person that I ever introduced myself to, and I will never forget what she said – she told Master Anakin that I was perfect! She was a woman with wonderful taste, even at so young an age.”

“How old was she?” Leia asked.

“What did she look like?” Luke asked, at the same moment.

Leia laughed softly, her joy uncontainable. When she looked up at Luke, he was smiling, that joy in his eyes, too. In this moment, they were just the same, as if they hadn't grown up apart at all, and Leia couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

And when Threepio started talking again, they turned to him as one, full of questions.

Answers finally within reach.


	36. To Dwell in Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan really has no clue what he's doing.

They’d forgotten to turn off the light.

Obi-Wan sighed, and tried to shift to a more comfortable position. Anakin apparently had had no trouble drifting off to a peaceful sleep. Of course, Anakin wasn’t the one currently being smothered by one-point-eight-five meters of frustrating young man, so perhaps it was understandable.

Obi-Wan stroked the long curved line of Anakin’s back, wishing for a moment that he understood Anakin’s intensity. He could observe it, see how Anakin could shift from lust to fear to weariness in a single heartbeat, but he didn’t think that he’d ever truly understand it. Anakin had a depth of emotion that was simply beyond Obi-Wan.

Anakin’s heart was as wide as the galaxy, and far more generous.

In truth, Obi-Wan was touched by Anakin’s desire to believe in him, by Anakin’s willingness to rest softly in Obi-Wan’s arms, despite Obi-Wan’s harsh words. And while part of him wanted, rather impulsively, to tell Anakin this, Obi-Wan knew that he couldn't.

The words would spill over, into what they both knew to be true. What Anakin was allowing Obi-Wan to pretend didn’t exist. Simple companionship and simple desire were not frowned on, nor was the not unusual practice of sleeping with a battle friend, not when death threatened on all sides.

But simple was the one thing that Anakin never managed to be.

Anakin was lightning in the night and the matching rumble of thunder. He was a bramble-thorn lodged in a tender place. Anakin was a hungry flame set in the vulnerable underbrush, and the aching cry of a hunting bird riding the winds in search of prey.

 _Be mindful of the living Force_.

Here and now, Obi-Wan did not have the Force to guide him, didn’t have that internal yet greater instinct showing him the correct path.

What he did have was Anakin.

Qui-Gon had believed that Anakin was the Chosen One. And it was very possible that Anakin was the Chosen One, if the Chosen One really was more than myth and legend. If the prophecy was meant to be so easily trusted, as the Council seemed to believe that it was. Master Windu might not be certain that Anakin _was_ the Chosen One, but he certainly did believe that there _would be_ a Chosen One.

And Anakin had always burned in the Force, unique in the way he interacted with it. His untempered strength was dangerous and raw – this was something that had been apparent to Obi-Wan very soon after meeting Anakin. For Qui-Gon’s sake, he’d tried to teach Anakin, show him how to channel and control that power.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have.

Perhaps-

Obi-Wan’s thoughts were interrupted when Anakin shifted and twisted in sleep, somehow managing to _tighten_ his hold on Obi-Wan in the process. Anakin’s blasted durasteel hand was now _very_ inconveniently placed underneath Obi-Wan, and was digging into the small of his back. Obi-Wan wriggled, trying to get somewhere near comfortable so that he could get at least a few hours of sleep. Anakin let out a breathy, sleepy moan, hips pushing instinctively and distractingly against Obi-Wan’s body.

Obi-Wan briefly closed his eyes in sheer, unmitigated frustration. Anakin _would_ be the one man that Obi-Wan had met who could fall asleep while still hard and aching. And he couldn’t very well wake Anakin up to tell him that Anakin’s erection was bothering Obi-Wan and making it difficult for him to either get to sleep or, failing that, to actually think about their situation.

He made another unsuccessful attempt at shimmying out of Anakin’s hold, but soon realized that if he yanked at Anakin’s clinging hands any harder, he _would_ wake Anakin up. And he couldn’t do that, not so soon after Anakin had gotten to sleep, not when Anakin would likely need that rest come the morrow. Perhaps Anakin’s tight grip was the result of his body still containing such tension.

Perhaps there was a way for Obi-Wan to solve this without awakening Anakin.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and fixed his gaze on Anakin’s face, not allowing himself to glance downward. Anakin had shadows under his eyes, as he’d had for the past few months, and, even in sleep, his mouth had a petulant downward turn, as if he was eternally certain that the galaxy had been created for the sole purpose of frustrating Anakin Skywalker. His features had sharpened dramatically in the past year or so, leaving all traces of childhood behind.

He was undeniably beautiful.

Slowly, Obi-Wan slid his right hand down Anakin’s stomach, and they were so close that he could feel the back of his hand firmly pressing against his own skin, even as he touched Anakin’s. He slipped his fingers inside the top of Anakin’s pants, insinuating his hand between cock and abdomen, feeling momentarily overwhelmed by the heated slide of Anakin’s skin under his fingertips.

Obi-Wan twisted his hand, curving his fingers around Anakin’s cock, taking the measure of him. Long, as befitted someone with Anakin’s tall figure, and not without breadth, though certainly not the widest that Obi-Wan had felt. But _satisfying_ , in a way that he’d never known before. How peculiar, that sexual desire could be so amplified by emotional attachment. It illuminated the reasons why such attachment was forbidden.

Obi-Wan shifted his grip and Anakin gasped slightly, full lips parting as he arched up into Obi-Wan’s touch, eyelashes fluttering. And Obi-Wan was hard, perhaps harder than he’d ever been before in his life.

His mind was filled now, with millions of images that he’d never allowed himself to entertain, not about Anakin. Never about Anakin.

The thought of Anakin’s lush mouth, the physical reality of Anakin’s actions today, fought against the last look Obi-Wan had had into Anakin’s eyes before Anakin had fallen asleep. Anakin had not given him permission for this, and Obi-Wan had not asked. And that had to matter.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, gently pulling his hand back up, away from the inviting heat of Anakin’s flesh. Instead, he placed his palm on Anakin’s back, echoing where Anakin’s durasteel hand was under Obi-Wan’s own back. Obi-Wan’s other hand was still wrapped around Anakin’s shoulder, something approaching comforting. Anakin’s forearm rested behind Obi-Wan’s neck, creating another tiny ache of discomfort.

The light was still on, too bright even with Obi-Wan’s eyes closed and his face turned as far to the side as he could manage.

And now that he was paying attention, he was _sure_ that this bed wasn’t as comfortable as the one he had in the Temple. The pillows were thin, the mattress wasn’t as soft as it could be, and it was far too narrow for two grown men.

He’d complain, but he’d spent over two years quietly staring down anyone who’d shown hints of thinking that his friendship with Anakin was inappropriate. He wasn’t quite ready to lose the high ground.

So, he was left with meditation.

Which he should not be considering as a last resort. In fact, meditation should have been his _first_ impulse. Obi-Wan considered, and then decided, rather uncharitably, to blame Anakin.

And if Obi-Wan had a bruise in the middle of his back tomorrow, from lying all night on what was, basically, just a hunk of metal, Anakin would get the full blame for that, as well.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath inward, held it, and then slowly let it out. He’d meditated in adverse circumstances before. He could manage it now.

An hour later, perhaps two, he was very close to giving up, kicking Anakin awake if need be, and then hauling himself over to the other bed so that he could get _some_ measure of comfort.

And that was when Anakin started talking in his sleep, mumbling indecipherable words under his breath.

Anakin twisted slightly, one hand flexing under Obi-Wan, moving to press tight fingers against Obi-Wan’s side, as if Obi-Wan _could_ shift out from under Anakin if he didn’t hold on more tightly, the other wrapped even more securely around the back of Obi-Wan's neck. Considering that Anakin’s grip had been tight enough before, this was nigh unto unbearable.

And then Anakin’s words got louder, clearer, coalescing into a series of protests. Anakin’s breathing had turned uneven and harsh, and he was clearly in the grip of some unpleasant dream.

Then, without warning, Anakin’s eyes were open, and Anakin was terrified.

“It’s all right,” Obi-Wan said, soothingly, running his hand along Anakin’s back, now tight with tension. “It was just a dream.”

Anakin shook his head, abruptly pulling out of Obi-Wan’s grasp, settling on the edge of the bed. He looked haunted and still far too full of fear.

“Anakin-“

“No,” Anakin said, softly. He wasn’t quite looking at Obi-Wan. “It _wasn’t_ just a dream.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin’s mouth twitched, as if he were caught in some great internal debate. Slowly, Anakin’s gaze lifted, until it met Obi-Wan’s. Anakin’s fear appeared under control now, but there was a lingering darkness in his eyes.

“Do you remember my dreams of my mother?” Anakin asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “I never told you… they came true. I went to Tatooine, like I told you, but she wasn’t already buried when I got there.”

“What happened, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, pushing up into a sitting position.

“I had to save her,” Anakin said, his voice breaking. “I had to save her and I was too late.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his knees, at a loss.

“I am _not_ going to let that happen again,” Anakin said. His gaze slid over Obi-Wan, determined and fierce. And though Obi-Wan knew the answer, he still had to ask.

“What did you dream about?”

Anakin moved forward, an oddly distant look on his face now, and he lightly touched two fingers to Obi-Wan’s lips, softly tracing over them.

“Tonight, I had a dream about you,” Anakin said, his mouth quirking up into an unamused smile. “I saw you lying on the ground, and you were dying, and I couldn’t do anything to help. And you said my name, you told me…”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, but he had nothing to offer. Anakin would take no comfort from the normal assurances, not now. And to tell Anakin that Obi-Wan’s death would only release him to the Force, and that Anakin wouldn’t lose him at all… in this moment, unable to touch the Force, Obi-Wan could not be entirely certain that he would be telling Anakin the truth.

“I’m not going to let it happen,” Anakin said. “I promise.”

“Anakin, such promises cannot be kept,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up to entwine Anakin’s fingers with his own.

“But we already know that it can,” Anakin said. “Luke told us.”

“It doesn’t seem natural,” Obi-Wan said, after a moment. “Death is a part of life.”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Anakin said, and it was clear how deeply he meant the words. “I can’t lose you.”

Obi-Wan frowned slightly as he took in the reckless decision on Anakin’s features. Anakin with a personal mission to save Obi-Wan’s life was… not a particularly comforting thought.

And yet, if Anakin’s dream about his mother had been real, if Anakin was having true dreams, having visions… such a thing was known only by record, and unreliable record at that. If Anakin was so deeply connected to the Force that he could catch genuine glimpses of the future, then Qui-Gon had been right all along.

Anakin _was_ the Chosen One.


	37. The Cavalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han just wants a break from the craziness.

Han opened his eyes to the darkness.

His head was pounding like one of those blasted Ewok drums, his mouth tasted like he’d licked Chewie before bed, his back ached, and he was alone.

No, wait, he was all alone _except_ for the bottle of cheap liquor that was currently lodged awkwardly underneath him, explaining why his back hurt so much. He pulled it out and tossed it into the corner, sighing as he heard it bounce off the wall and come rolling right back towards his bunk.

‘Never worry about breaking a bottle again’, that’s what the holoverts said, not bothering to take into account the fact that sometimes, a man _wanted_ to break a bottle.

Leia hadn’t ever come to bed. Han stretched out, trying to decide which possibility was worse – that she was still down there chatting away about Darth Vader or that she’d decided to sleep in an empty bunk. They were both pretty high on the horrible scale, but Leia choosing to sleep somewhere Han wasn’t managed to win by the skin of its teeth.

Han rubbed his eyes, trying to decide if he really wanted to get up and find out what was currently happening on his ship. Reluctantly, he swung his feet down onto the cool floor, heated but never quite warm enough. He shuffled over and turned the light on to its dimmest setting, then set about getting himself decently disreputable via the fresher unit.

But even shaved, clean, and dressed, he didn’t feel particularly ready to face the day. All he wanted to face right now was more of his bed.

When he got down there, Luke would start working on him, he just knew it. Luke wanted Han to be a part of his crazy scheme to help his father, that much was obvious. Especially now that Luke knew that Han… had some knowledge about him that Luke didn’t.

Except that it wasn’t really relevant and Luke wasn’t getting that. Han always used to believe that Anakin Skywalker had died, twenty-four years ago. What he’d discovered last night was that Anakin hadn’t ever existed. It’d just been a façade, a cover for Darth Vader to hide behind until he could betray everyone who’d trusted him.

Everything that Han knew, all the heroics and the charm, none of it was _real_. Any information that Han had to give to Luke was a lie.

But Luke wouldn’t believe that.

The corridors were quiet, only the gentle hum of the air recirculation system and Han’s soft footsteps breaking the silence. But then, as he approached the cargo bay, he heard a single voice echoing up to where he was – Threepio.

Han’s steps slowed and he entered the cargo bay hesitantly, one hand lingering on edge of the doorway. Threepio was still talking, arms moving with stilted expressiveness. Luke and Leia were sitting down, leaning against each other, facing away from Han, Leia’s hair spilling down Luke’s back.

“-the fourth week passed and there was still no news of them on the HoloNet,” Threepio said. “And she confided to me that she was deeply afraid that Master Anakin had been killed, and that news wasn’t being reported because of morale reasons. The unofficial channels had a thousand different theories about why there was no official word being released, most of them bad. Miss Padmé began to be afraid to watch, so many people spoke of how there could be no hope.”

“Why… why wasn’t she being more proactive?” Leia asked, and she sounded frustrated _and_ exhausted. She’d be in a terrible mood all day. Wonderful. “Why didn’t she _do_ anything?”

“She couldn’t risk showing too much attention in Master Anakin,” Threepio said, matter-of-factly. “If the Council suspected the truth, if the Senate knew, it would be the end of her career.”

“But _why_?” Leia asked.

“Does it matter?” Han asked. Luke glanced over his shoulder and met Han’s eyes, not looking surprised to see him there. “It’s the past. Can’t change it now.”

“Is that why you forgot you ever knew about Kenobi and Skywalker?” Leia asked, getting up from the floor and turning to face Han, who shifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were bright, but her expression was hard, unforgiving. “The past _matters_ , Han. You can’t lock it up in a box and pretend it never happened.”

“Hey, this isn’t about me. Vader’s your father, sweetheart, not mine,” Han said. Leia’s cheeks were flushed pink and she looked almost ready to hit him. Then her lips pressed together tightly and the look in her eyes cooled.

“You’re right. This isn’t about you at all,” Leia said. She turned away from him, towards Luke, who was still sitting on the floor. “Luke, were you ready to go?”

“And where are we going?” Luke asked.

“To speak with our father, of course,” Leia said, her coldness entirely directed at Han.

“They have a shield up around their room,” Luke said. “I don’t even know if they’re awake yet.”

“Then we’ll wake them up,” Leia said.

“Or we could wait until Artoo and Chewie arrive,” Luke said, standing up. “If Artoo really did go with Anakin and Obi-Wan on the majority of their missions, then he can give us some background that Threepio wouldn’t know.”

Leia was a little pissed off that Luke wasn’t going along with her, if that tight, fake smile was any clue. Han was just relieved that Luke was staying _Luke_ , and not taking sides. He didn’t need both of them against him when the room was still a little green around the edges, and Threepio was muttering in the corner.

“When did you send that message to them?” Han asked, but then he realized that the only time would have been… “Right, before you headed out to the Temple. Well, then, Artoo and Chewie should get here any time. They might be in the system now.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Luke said. He looked over at Leia. “We might as well wait.”

“All right,” Leia said, and she still wasn’t looking at Han. “I’m going to go lie down for a while. Come get me when they’re here?”

“Of course,” Luke said. Leia smiled at Luke, bright and warm, and Han was sure that she was doing it on purpose.

And after she’d gone, Han stared after her for a while.

“She probably doesn’t want company,” he said, feeling a little empty.

“Well, not yours,” Luke corrected, but his hand was warm and reassuring on Han’s shoulder, and Han could only pretend to take offense.

So, he and Luke pulled out an old hologame, set it up for two people, and settled down to wait for Chewie. It wasn’t the most reliable board that existed – one of the Hjura holopieces flickered whenever you moved it to the left, and it liked to randomly move the Kena pieces, usually on Luke’s turn, but the game was just an excuse anyway. Otherwise, Luke would probably try to talk, and that was something that Han wanted to avoid right now.

Besides, Threepio was talking enough for all three of them. And Luke kept flashing little smiles over to him, so Han didn’t tell Threepio to shut up. Still, he didn’t really feel like hearing about Skywalker right now, so it was a good thing that he’d figured out how to ignore Threepio months ago.

Two games later and in the middle of the third, they got a warning buzz – someone was opening the door from the outside. And Chewie was the only person off the ship who had a working code, so Han didn’t bother looking up from the board, just lifted up a hand in greeting when he heard Chewie come rumbling in, wondering about the details.

“You’re gonna need to ask Luke about that, buddy,” Han said, cocking his head as he tried to decide between two moves. “It’s nothing to do with me.”

Chewie loudly expressed disbelief at that idea. Han shrugged. It wasn’t his fault people kept trying to drag him into this – he was determined to keep out, no matter what Luke or Leia had to say. Skywalker wasn’t _his_ father, and he’d never trained with Kenobi. It wasn’t Han’s business and it was going to stay that way.

“It’s about my father,” Luke said. Artoo chirruped inquisitively. Han glanced and noticed Luke’s intense study of Artoo, before he ducked down to stare at the board some more. “You worked with him.”

Artoo made an oddly dissonant noise, and when Han looked up again, it didn’t look like Luke had understood it either.

“He’s sorry he didn’t mention anything before, sir,” Threepio said. Han’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully – what had happened to ‘Master Luke’? Artoo twirped again, at a higher pitch. Threepio turned towards Artoo, indignantly. “What do you mean, it’s my fault as well? I didn’t remember!”

Artoo twittered accusingly, Chewie growled questioningly, Threepio protested his innocence gratingly, and Han’s head was pounding from it all.

“All of you, _shut up_!” Okay, after that, it might be hard to convince them that he wasn’t listening and didn’t care, but hey, it wasn’t his fault they were loud enough to wake the dead. “Now, Threepio, can it. Chewie, give Luke a chance to _talk_. And Artoo, you have a lot of explaining to do and don’t pretend otherwise.”

A chastised and surprised silence filled the room.

“Okay, that’s better,” Han said, glancing over at Luke, who just looked amused. “Luke, you wanna start talking anytime soon?”

“You seem to have the troops under control, General Solo,” Luke said, leaning casually against a crate, the one with Baxter’s explosive toys in it. Han’s best glare didn’t make a dent in Luke’s smile. “Are you sure that you don’t want to take the lead?”

“Not in a million years,” Han said. “It’s your show, you know that.”

“Not just mine,” Luke said, softly.

“If I may, sir,” Threepio said. “I’ll go and wake the princess.”

Luke glanced over at Threepio, and then nodded. As Threepio wandered off, Han finally went over and gave Chewie a tight hug, while Chewie quietly reprimanded him for not keeping a sharper eye on Luke.

Han pulled out of the hug and muttered something about wishing that were possible, and he noticed that Luke was kneeling in front of Artoo, looking solemn.

“He’s here,” Luke said, quietly, his hand on the curve of Artoo’s dome. Artoo twittered questioningly. “My father is here. Not… not Vader, but my father from when he was young. He’s the one who told me.”

Artoo started making tiny, disquieting noises that Luke only seemed to half-understand and that Han didn’t understand at all. Luke cocked his head, asked Artoo if he could clear things up at all. Artoo chirruped softly.

Luke’s forehead wrinkled briefly, and then he looked over at Han.

“He wants to talk to Anakin,” Luke said, as if he needed Han’s permission in any way. “Right now.”

“Leia’s going to be here in a minute,” Han pointed out. Artoo whistled, low and mournful, then he rolled away from Luke and back towards the ramp. His dome twisted around towards Luke, then back towards the entrance.

“I’m not sure he knows what he wants to do,” Luke said. He had an intent look on his face as he stared at Artoo. “He wants to see Anakin, right now, but he knows that I want him to wait.”

Artoo made another soft, sad sound.

Chewie quietly asked Han just what was going on. Han shrugged helplessly. He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain this all to himself, let alone to anyone else.

“Just wait, Artoo,” Luke said. “Leia’ll be here in a minute, and then we can go see Anakin and Obi-Wan.”

Artoo emitted a high-pitched whine that spoke of utter shock, even to Han. His third wheel hit the ground and he zipped down the ramp, clearly bent for the rooftop door.

“What’d you say?” Han asked, and Chewie echoed the question.

“Didn’t you notice? He reacted when I said Obi-Wan’s name,” Luke said, sounding much too excited. He looked over at Han. “I have to find out what’s going on.”

And then Luke was gone, too, racing after Artoo. Han sighed, while Chewie was staring down the ramp, growling over the impetuousness of younglings.

“I know just how you feel,” Han muttered, taking off after Luke. He heard Chewie’s annoyed roar and spared a thought for how thoroughly pissed Leia was going to be when she caught up with them.

At this rate, Luke was going to get him in _real_ trouble one day.


	38. This Simple Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has a conversation with Obi-Wan.

Anakin refastened the clasp of his belt, fully dressed now except for his boots and glove.

Obi-Wan was still sleeping, half-hidden in the near-darkness of the room, lying under the thin cover of the sheet. He’d shifted out from under the heavier blanket about an hour ago. Anakin guessed that maybe he’d been hot. It wasn’t something that would have bothered Obi-Wan if he’d still had his Force-connection, but Anakin knew that normal people, like Padmé, got too warm sometimes.

The sheet had slid down, and Anakin felt an interesting buzz of joy from that, from being permitted to see Obi-Wan’s bare flesh. It was different and more intimate than the tiny glimpses allowed on missions, when they shared quarters. Now, if he wanted to, he could walk back over to the bed and wrap himself around Obi-Wan, skin to skin.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t be allowed to hide himself from Anakin anymore, wouldn’t be able to hold himself separate. Obi-Wan was _his_ now, in the way that he’d always been Obi-Wan’s. And that was something Anakin had never thought possible, something that he couldn’t ever lose.

He could still remember all the details of his newest nightmare – Obi-Wan had been lying on a dark grey rock surface, face pale and tight with pain, and he’d called out Anakin’s name. He’d been bleeding, his life pooling around him, and Anakin hadn’t been there.

Anakin’s lips tightened.

It wouldn’t happen that way. If he never allowed Obi-Wan out of his sight, never allowed Obi-Wan to be alone, it would be impossible for that to ever happen. Or until they figured out that trick that Luke had mentioned.

Anakin pulled on his boots, and considered Luke. Anakin still wasn’t sure just how much he was willing to trust Luke, his still unknown son. Luke didn’t feel like a Jedi, was too full of emotion that he didn’t even _try_ to control. His strength, too, was unrefined, though he was powerful. As Anakin had confessed to Obi-Wan, Luke’s power was near to Anakin’s own, much closer than any Jedi that he’d known.

And Luke loved Obi-Wan, too.

Well, only one of them could keep Obi-Wan, and Anakin had the prior claim. Luke would be just fine. He could talk with his ghost, and be satisfied with that.

And that gave Anakin an idea -- if Obi-Wan’s spirit still existed, there was no reason why Anakin couldn’t… call him.

Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan and then he moved towards the wall, pressing the panel that opened the ‘fresher. He slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him. He ignored the physical and emotional presence of Obi-Wan nearby, and reached out with the Force. There were thousands of sentients in close range, some with strong Force-potential, there was Luke’s blaze of power, on the rooftop above, but, at first, there was no Obi-Wan. Anakin stretched out further, smiled when he felt the barest whisper of the right presence, and then he _pulled_.

It worked better than Anakin had been expecting – his sense of Obi-Wan started to strengthen immediately, and he saw a faint blue glow forming in front of him, brightening by the moment.

And now he could see Obi-Wan’s face, much older, yes, as Luke had said, but it was _Obi-Wan_ , and he hadn’t been anywhere near this old in Anakin’s dream last night, and Anakin wasn’t sure what that meant. Obi-Wan looked startled, and Anakin could feel surprise and pleasure and regret shimmering around him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, and his voice was filled with open affection. “You look well.”

“You look old,” Anakin said, tilting his head slightly, and Obi-Wan chuckled softly. Anakin gave him an apologetic smile. “No, it’s… it’s a good thing.”

“You really shouldn’t have brought me here,” Obi-Wan said.

“Why not?” Anakin asked, reaching out to touch the glow of Obi-Wan’s cloak. There was the slightest hint of resistance, and it felt as though his hand might go right through if he pushed any harder.

“Because you want something you can’t have,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “I can’t tell you what you want to know, Anakin.”

“Why not?” Anakin asked again, frustration tightening his voice. “I had a dream-“

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. He briefly glanced at the door into the main room before turning his gaze back to Anakin. “I can sense everything that he does, I know everything that he knows.”

“But it only goes one way,” Anakin said.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, simply. Anakin pressed his lips together, tried to curb his frustration. Obi-Wan just watched him steadily, and Anakin wondered if he could feel the fear eating away at Anakin’s insides, slowly devouring him piecemeal.

“Why won’t you tell me?” Anakin asked. “You’ll die if you don’t.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and the tone of his voice reminded Anakin of another kind voice, deep and warm, giving him a new hope for the future, telling him that he was no longer a slave. There was no comfort in the memory. “I’m not telling you because you won’t understand.”

“Please, tell me,” Anakin said, and he knew that he sounded desperate. “ _Please_.”

“You have to let go,” Obi-Wan said, and that wasn’t any help at all. Obi-Wan seemed to know that, and his expression was soft, sympathetic. “Trust in the Force… stop holding on so very tightly.”

“I can’t let you die,” Anakin said, trying to dig his fingers into Obi-Wan’s cloak, his hand tingling as it entered the odd blue glow that surrounded Obi-Wan, his fingers disappearing briefly into Obi-Wan’s shoulder before he pulled them back out again and then dropped his hand to his side with a shudder. He stared at Obi-Wan helplessly. “I love you.”

“Yes, Anakin, I know that,” Obi-Wan said, his words gentle.

“Then why won’t you help me save you?” Anakin asked.

“I’ve told you all that you need to know,” Obi-Wan said, not answering Anakin’s question at all. “Once you understand and accept that, the rest is rather intuitive.”

“I’m not your apprentice anymore,” Anakin said, sulkily. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“You didn’t believe you needed lectures when you _were_ my apprentice,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You did need them, Anakin, and you still do. The truth that I never knew how to tell you is that we never stop learning, not any of us.”

As Anakin opened his mouth to answer, he felt a tug in the Force.

“You’re waking up,” he said instead. He could feel Obi-Wan, out in the other room, stirring from sleep, starting to edge toward awareness. It was odd and comforting, feeling Obi-Wan from two directions at once. “Did you want to talk to yourself?”

“I’m not sure that he’d take things as easily as you are,” Obi-Wan said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s give him some time. You’ve only been here for a day.”

“We’re not planning on staying long,” Anakin said, the words as close to an apology as he was willing to get. “Just until we figure out how to get back.”

“I’ll come and say good-bye before you leave, then,” Obi-Wan said. He moved forward, and Anakin sensed Obi-Wan’s intentions. Anakin tilted his head slightly, his eyes sliding shut. Then, tentatively, Obi-Wan brushed his lips against Anakin’s, and when he pulled back, Anakin’s mouth felt slightly numb. Obi-Wan’s voice held a touch of regret as he whispered, “Good luck, old friend.”

When Anakin opened his eyes again, Obi-Wan was gone, as was the presence of him in the Force. Anakin rubbed his fingertips over his lips, contrasting the firmness of his own touch to the half-reality of Obi-Wan’s kiss.

Anakin slipped out of the ‘fresher again, the door sliding down behind him and receding into the wall, hiding itself entirely. Anakin decided that it had to be an extremely popular and well-known design, because he never would have found the ‘fresher on his own if he _hadn’t_ been a Jedi.

Anakin's mouth curved into a smile when he saw that Obi-Wan was continuing the long process of waking up. Obi-Wan was certainly _capable_ of getting up quickly, but he only bothered with that when he had to – Anakin knew from long experience that Obi-Wan preferred to wake up over the course of a half-hour or so. Obi-Wan liked his comforts, however much he pretended that a Jedi shouldn’t.

Anakin settled next to Obi-Wan on the bed, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s stomach. To his delight, Obi-Wan arched up against him, reacting to him even while still half-asleep. He shifted his gaze up to Obi-Wan’s face, watching as a lazy smile turned up the corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan’s eyelashes fluttered as he pulled out of sleep. Finally, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and the shy joy he met Anakin’s gaze with was intoxicating, a warm surge of desire that washed over Anakin.

He was about to lean forward, over Obi-Wan, to touch and explore more, when he felt the mental jangle that he’d rigged to the room alarms. He let out a soft sigh, and pulled away from Obi-Wan, who gave him a curious look.

“We’re about to have company,” Anakin said. “Did you want to use the ‘fresher while I stall them at the door?”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Obi-Wan said, stretching a little as he got up out of the bed. He started collecting his clothing together and Anakin watched, eyes narrowed as he took in the gracefulness of Obi-Wan’s movements. An asset on the battlefield, to be sure, but it occurred to Anakin that that was not the only place where grace could be useful.

Anakin slid out of the bed and prowled over to Obi-Wan, who now had his tunics in hand. Obi-Wan turned to him, probably about to ask just _where_ the ‘fresher was, and Anakin wrapped a hand around Obi-Wan’s neck and tugged him forward, pressing his lips against Obi-Wan’s.

Obi-Wan sighed into Anakin's mouth, and Obi-Wan’s mouth tasted stale from a night’s sleep, but his beard was bristly and harsh, and his lips were tender and willing, and it was undisputedly _real_ , this kiss. Anakin smiled and then he placed another small kiss on the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan looked slightly bemused, but happy, and Anakin decided that that was an attractive look on him.

“Good morning,” Anakin said, because it felt appropriate, and then he reached out and pressed down on the hidden panel that opened the door to the ‘fresher. “I’ll see you again in a few minutes. And I think that our company is Luke.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to hurry so that you two don’t have to be alone for too long,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin grinned, and Obi-Wan smiled back at him, and in the warmth of Obi-Wan’s regard, the fear retreated, for the moment.

His fears were always easier to ignore if Obi-Wan was pleased with him.


	39. In the Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bargain is struck.

Luke spotted Artoo up ahead, fiddling with a computer connection close to a door on the right. Luke could sense Anakin’s shield surrounding the room there, but he had no idea how _Artoo_ had known where to go.

Then again, Artoo always did seem to find his way around places.

“Not opening?” Luke asked sympathetically. Artoo twittered emphatically, and the tool-tipped arm plugged into the wall sparked slightly. Artoo retracted it with an annoyed little sound. “I’m not sure what he did, but it feels pretty effective.”

Then, silently, the door slid open, revealing Anakin. He was dressed, so he’d either already been awake or he’d slept in his clothes. Luke had done his fair share of the latter in the past few years, though, and Anakin looked too alert for that. He also wasn’t wearing the glove that he’d had on last night and his arm glimmered darkly, black and gold.

At first, Anakin had a neutral look on his face, his emotions hidden, but he softened when he looked down and saw Artoo.

“Hey, remember me?” Anakin asked, sounding hopeful as he dropped down to one knee. Artoo chirped once, and twisted around quickly, extending an arm out and then zapping Anakin’s leg with an open connection. Anakin let out a soft sound of pain, his hand going to the slightly blackened place on his pant leg, but to Luke, the look of complete confusion on his face was worse. “Artoo, what’s _wrong_?”

Artoo pulled the arm away and made a long, fast series of tweets and bleeps, interspersed with light humming. Luke couldn’t make any of it out at all, but Anakin had a look of intense concentration on his face. Occasionally, Anakin held a hand up to Artoo, who would obligingly repeat the latest series of chirps.

Finally, Artoo wound down to a close with one final, loud protest.

“Traitor is a strong word,” Anakin said. Artoo twirped quietly, and Anakin pressed his lips together tightly and nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

Artoo beeped decisively.

“How is talking to Obi-Wan going to help?” Anakin asked. “You know that he doesn’t understand most of what you say. And he’s not your biggest fan.”

Artoo made a soft noise that Luke managed to roughly interpret as ‘things change.’

“Not just yet, Artoo,” Anakin said. He glanced back up at Luke, his eyes darkened with something Luke couldn’t read, and then he casually stood up and walked back into the room. “You might as well come in to wait. Obi-Wan’s in the ‘fresher. He may be some time.”

When Luke entered the room, the world closed in around him. Anakin’s shield was still firmly in place, and everything outside of the room itself was muted and dim, while Anakin suddenly blazed brilliant with a swirling mix of emotions. The anger that Anakin had directed at Luke last night was still there, but now there was an undercurrent of satisfaction. And while Luke couldn’t _see_ Obi-Wan, the sense of him was as strong as if he were standing right next to Anakin.

“He remembered me,” Anakin said. “I’d been afraid that he, too, had had his memory taken.”

“But couldn’t you-“

“Yes, of course,” Anakin said, and impatience bloomed in him, though he hid it quickly. “That’s not the point. Even though I could bring his memory back, it’s still wrong to take it away in the first place."

“Most people don’t think that doing anything to droids can be considered wrong,” Luke said, his gaze sliding around the room. His eyes narrowed slightly when he spotted the two beds pressed up against the wall – one of them was clearly unused, the covers still smooth and no Force-trace of either Anakin or Obi-Wan lingering on it. The other bed had a Jedi cloak resting on the rumpled blanket. Artoo had settled in between the two beds, apparently content to wait for Obi-Wan. “Mind-wipes are standard procedure.”

“Do you feel that way?” Anakin asked, the challenge in his voice clear. He tilted his head slightly, and Luke _felt_ him shutting the door and reworking the Force-created lock he’d used on it before. “Could you destroy what Artoo is that easily?”

“Most droids don’t act the way that Artoo does,” Luke said. Artoo and Threepio were still the only droids he’d ever met that actually seemed to be genuinely loyal, not just programmed to obey.

“But are they incapable or just never given the chance?” Anakin asked. “Droids are treated as if they were slaves. It’s distasteful.”

“You probably have a more informed opinion on the subject than I ever could,” Luke said, cautiously.

“Do I?” Anakin asked and all at once Luke couldn’t sense anything solid from him. Anakin felt as empty and blank as a hologram, light and show and little else. “All I know is that droids respond to kindness, and to respect. That’s all that I need to know.”

Artoo let out a soft, happy beep, and a moment later, a wall panel slid open, revealing Obi-Wan.

“That blasted room is a good ten levels colder than it ought to be,” he muttered, striding out of the ‘fresher. “Morning, Luke, you’re here early, though it’s for the best. There’s been a change in plans and Anakin and I will need to leave soon. Is there any chance that you could lend us your friend’s ship?”

“Han would kill me if I even thought about it,” Luke said, trying to figure out just what was different about Obi-Wan today. “Where were you planning on going? The Minister wanted to talk to you again and I-”

“She wants to talk us out of trying to leave, which seems like pure nonsense to me,” Obi-Wan said, speaking quickly, and he still hadn’t looked at Luke. “We don’t need to speak with her. We need to go to Hargoeth, the last place we remember being. Whatever happened, had to have happened there. I wanted to be better informed, but I can already tell that I’m not going to learn anything else here.”

“Actually, there’s a lot that you could learn,” Luke said. “This is the future, _your_ future.”

“That seems quite unlikely,” Obi-Wan said. “There’s no possible way that this future can unfold the way it has if Anakin and I manage to return to the past with our memories intact.”

“And you don’t want it to stay the same,” Luke said, remembering Anakin’s words in the Temple Archives. “You want to _fix_ it.”  


“A generation of betrayal, of loss and despair,” Obi-Wan said, and though Luke could feel the pain in Obi-Wan’s thoughts, it didn’t reach his voice. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“And even if he didn’t, I _would_ ,” Anakin said. “How could I ever make the same choices knowing the price? Let my _wife_ die, let my fellow Jedi die, all for nothing?”

Luke flinched at Anakin’s words, coated in unhidden emotion. Padmé had become all too real to him this past night, after Threepio’s stories, and being at the Temple yesterday had vividly reminded him of the agonies suffered by the Jedi because of Anakin and the fall of the Republic.

Some prices _were_ far too high to pay.

Artoo chirruped, loudly, drawing the attention of the group.

“Well, you’re with Obi-Wan now,” Luke said. “What did you need to tell him?”

A beam of blue light shot out from Artoo’s dome, a small hologram forming on the tight cover of the untouched bed.

It was Anakin, one who almost looked like the one standing here now, but Luke could see a scar marring the side of his face, the same one that had appeared in the security holo in Mothma’s records.

 _“Everything has gone horribly wrong,”_ the hologram of Anakin said. _“And it’s only going to get worse. Master, I wanted to say that I don’t believe you are against me, no matter what the Chancellor – the Emperor – has said. You aren’t against me_ now _, that is. But you will be.”_

Obi-Wan took a step towards the bed, and Luke could feel the emotion coiled in him, fear and anger wrapped up in something tender and strange.

 _“I’ve done… things you won’t forgive, for reasons that you can’t understand. But if… if I should die before we get the chance to speak, I still want you to know the truth.”_

The Anakin in the hologram paused, his eyes closing for a moment, as if he were collecting his thoughts.

 _“Everything I have done has been to save… to save Padmé's life._ Everything _. The Jedi can’t help her and… they would not, in any case. I dream of her death every night, Master, but they are not just dreams. I love her; I_ will not _allow her to die.”_

“Oh, dear,” Obi-Wan whispered. Luke glanced over at him, and his eyes were wide with surprise. “That _can’t_ be a coincidence.”

 _“To allow an innocent to die when you know a way to save her is evil. I would be evil, if I did not fight for Padmé's life with every breath in my body. I have no choice, no options.”_

Anakin heaved in a long, unsteady breath, and, faintly, Luke could feel fear thrashing around in him.

 _“But you do. The Emperor has declared that all Jedi are to be killed, but I swear to you that if you run, they will not be able to find you. You will be as difficult to locate as a single grain of salt would be in the midst of a desert. I have made it so.”_

“Had you truly grown so powerful?” Obi-Wan said, so quietly that Luke almost missed the words.

 _“You will always be my most beloved friend. Nothing can change that. I have to leave now, so, please, stay safe, my Master. We_ will _meet again in the Force, I promise you.”_

The hologram flickered off.

“Why are you showing this to me?” Obi-Wan asked, his uncertainty hardening to coldness. “Shouldn’t you have shown it to the other Obi-Wan, long ago, the one who belonged in this time?”

Artoo made a soft, light chirp.

“He did,” Anakin translated. “You and only you.”

Obi-Wan sighed, softened. He stepped away from Artoo, towards the closed window of the room.

Artoo beeped, and it sounded… disappointed.

“Seeing it didn’t make you very happy,” Anakin said. “But Artoo wasn’t surprised about that. I must have done something truly unforgivable.”

“Not you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, staring off into a corner of the room. “ _Never_ you. You know what the real choices are now, and you would never make whatever mistakes he made.”

“Which doesn’t rule out the option of making entirely new ones,” Anakin said, wryly.

“Sadly, nothing rules that out,” Obi-Wan said, glancing back at Anakin, and then at Luke. “Still, doing nothing simply means that nothing gets done. We _do_ need to get to Hargoeth, as soon as we possibly can.”

“Then I should probably-“ Anakin snapped his fingers, and the door shot open, far faster than it was programmed to do. Han immediately stumbled inside, as if he’d been leaning up against or even banging on the door, though Luke hadn’t felt his presence at all. “-let the pilot inside.”

“Hey, Han,” Luke said, wondering just how long Han had been waiting. “Sorry about running off like that.”

“Oh, you’ll pay for it,” Han promised darkly, though he was glaring mostly at Obi-Wan. “Now, will someone please explain to me what’s going on _this_ time?”

“It isn’t relevant,” Obi-Wan said, and Luke could see Han bristle under Obi-Wan’s careless tone. “All that matters is that Anakin and I need to leave, as soon as possible.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Han asked.

“Do you really want us to stay?” Obi-Wan asked. “If you help us leave, we’ll be gone, and you won’t have to worry about us anymore.”

“No, we won’t be worried about anything.” It was Leia’s voice, and when Luke turned, he saw her standing in the doorway, Chewbacca looming behind her. Though she looked pale, her will felt like iron. Her gaze was fixed on Obi-Wan. “You can’t worry if you don’t exist. That _is_ the plan, isn’t it? You want to change your future and you’re willing to erase all of us in the process.”

Obi-Wan met her stare head-on, and Luke could feel _his_ resolve, too, unyielding and steadfast. Luke wondered if telling Leia that he’d known about Obi-Wan’s plans would dim her anger or just redirect it.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice holding not the slightest hint of doubt. “I am.”

“You can’t go back,” Leia said, as she took a step towards Obi-Wan. “I won’t let you.”

“Are you so eager to hold onto this future?” Obi-Wan asked. “It could be better.”

“Or you could make it worse,” Leia said. “Make it so we never recover from whatever fall occurs. _Anything_ could happen. I can’t let you take that chance.”

“Are you saying that you plan on stopping us?” Obi-Wan asked.

“If I need to,” Leia said. “I’m hoping that it won’t be necessary. I’m hoping that you’ll change your minds, be willing to leave the past intact."

“Do you really think that you _could_ stop us?” Anakin asked, and though his voice was perfectly calm, even casual, it still sent shivers through Luke. Leia immediately turned towards Anakin, her fury sparkling just below the surface.

“Luke alone is almost as strong as you are,” she said. “Yes, we can stop you, if we have to.”

Anakin took a step towards Leia, and Luke could feel her heartbeat quicken slightly. Han’s hand was on his gun, and Luke felt the urge to place his own hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

“Well, then, child,” Obi-Wan said, softly, and Anakin immediately relaxed. “Perhaps you could tell us just what _you_ would like us to do.”

“I want you to learn about this future and see why it needs to stay as it is,” Leia said, without hesitation. Obi-Wan and Anakin shared a glance, and an odd, almost bitter feeling of amusement spiked in the both of them, for no reason that Luke could see.

“I will give you a week,” Obi-Wan said, as if it were of no consequence at all, as if he hadn’t just been arguing for as much haste as possible. “One week to prove that this place is better than a universe where the Republic never fell.”

Leia paused for a moment and Luke wondered if she, too, felt as if the galaxy were standing on the edge of a cliff, half a step from falling off.

“Agreed,” Leia said, and at that moment, Luke felt an odd sensation, as if something deep inside him were clicking into place.

As if all of this was supposed to happen.

It wasn’t a feeling he particularly liked.


	40. Divergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia has a lot of work ahead of her.

“Then it’s settled,” Leia said, pushing her anxiety into a tight ball in the back of her mind. This had to work – there wasn’t another option. This universe might have flaws, but the solution was _not_ to erase the past and start over. “You won’t try to leave.”

“I give you my word,” Obi-Wan said, his voice rich with what sounded like amusement. She knew that he’d already made up his mind, but she’d dealt with some of the most stubborn beings in the galaxy – at the very least, she would make him give her a chance.

“Thank you,” she said. He inclined his head towards her, a careful measure of respect in his eyes. Leia couldn’t help from glancing over at Luke, wondering why he was staying out of this, why he wasn’t backing her up, but he didn't meet her gaze, too busy studying Obi-Wan.

“So, what’d we just agree to here?” Han asked her, still sounding a little annoyed and angry. “The big picture part I get, but what exactly are you planning on showing them?”

“I thought we’d take them to see your old friend,” Leia said brightly. “The one that was so interested in Skywalkers. I’m also hoping to arrange a visit from some other people that they’d like to see.”

She’d caught Obi-Wan and Anakin’s interest with that, though Anakin quickly looked away again. He almost looked… embarrassed, and she had the oddest feeling that he didn’t _like_ the way he’d been acting earlier.

“You really think that’s the best idea?” Han asked. Leia gave him her coldest glare, but he shrugged it off with ease.

“What’s the name of this friend?” Obi-Wan asked.

“He goes by Dex,” Han said. “He showed a lot of interest in meeting Luke.”

“ _Dex_?” Obi-Wan and Anakin said at the same time.

“Oh, excuse me.” A pale blue face was peering around the still-open door – Leia dimly recognized it as one of Mothma’s junior assistants. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, terribly sorry. Master Kenobi, the Minister has respectfully requested that you, just you, please, join her for breakfast.”

“ _Only_ Master Kenobi?” Anakin asked, sharply, shifting from surprise to anger with the quickness of a turning speeder.

“Oh, yes, sir,” the assistant said, its eyes wide and anxious. “She wishes to speak to him in confidence. I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s all right, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin settled back slightly though, to Leia, he still seemed to seethe with resentment. “While I’m speaking with Minister Mothma, the others can take you to see Dex.”

“Artoo goes with you,” Anakin said, his mouth set in something of a pout. “That’s final.”

“Anyone would think that I’d been your apprentice,” Obi-Wan complained, though Leia noticed that he wasn’t arguing against Anakin’s condition. “I’m certain you weren’t acting this way a week ago.”

“Perhaps you just weren’t paying attention,” Anakin said.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said, but Leia noticed a strange look on his face, like he was thinking of something mildly unpleasant.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to see Dex?” Anakin asked, softly, his full attention on Obi-Wan. “He was your friend first.”

“I have a week to see him,” Obi-Wan said. “And it may prove useful to reacquaint myself with Minister Mothma.”

“Be careful,” Anakin said.

“Only if you are,” Obi-Wan said, with a fond smile. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Master.”

Neither of them had so much as glanced at the others in the room for opinions. Leia frowned and then stepped back as Obi-Wan and R2-D2 followed Mothma’s assistant out of the room. Chewie placed a warm and comforting hand on her shoulder but the room seemed _colder_ with Obi-Wan's absence.

“So, Dex is still around,” Anakin said, moving over towards the bed and picking up a glove. He slipped it on, and Leia felt deeply unsettled that it had taken her until now to realize that his right hand was not only mechanical but, unlike Luke’s, it was visibly so, gleaming in light of the room. “That’s interesting.”

“How well did you know him?” Han asked, and Leia wondered if he felt as… invaded by Anakin’s presence as she did. Everything seemed to lead back to Anakin, no matter how impossible the connection seemed at first.

“Obi-Wan knows him better than I do,” Anakin said, sitting down to pull on his boots, his tight smile implying that he wasn’t going to tell them any more than that.

Convincing those two that this future was worthwhile would be easier if she could stop wanting to smack Anakin.


	41. The Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han doesn't see it coming.

Han leaned up against the wall, glaring at Skywalker, who didn’t seem to be paying much attention to any of them. 

“Hey, _kid_ ,” Han said, and finally Skywalker looked at him, a spark of anger in his eyes. “I don’t want to walk in there blind. All I need to know is if Dex’ll be happy to see you or if he’ll have us killed for standing next to you.”

“He was a friend,” Skywalker said. “But I don’t know what this future’s done to him. I can’t even begin to guess. He _should_ still like me. Out of all of Obi-Wan’s friends, he was always the… most approachable.”

“He didn’t strike me as all that friendly,” Leia said, reaching down to pat casually at her blaster. “But he’s been hiding from both sides for a long time.”

“Because he knows so much,” Skywalker said, slipping on a cloak that had been laying on one of the beds.

“Well, there’s that,” Leia said. “And he also never… fully committed to either side. He would trade information and even weapons to us, but he was never willing to join us.”

“Dex wasn’t one for politics. He didn’t think too much of the Council, either,” Skywalker said, and Han noticed that he’d picked up two lightsabers from the end table. Kenobi hadn’t taken his with him. That didn’t seem like too smart a move. “And he was always teasing Obi-Wan about the difference between knowing things and understanding them.”

“It’s an importance distinction,” Luke said. Chewie rumbled his agreement. Skywalker shot a curious look towards Chewie, his eyes narrowing for a moment, and then he looked back over at Han.

“I can’t promise much,” Skywalker said, holding Han’s gaze. “But I won’t let anyone kill you for knowing me.”

“I guess I’ll have to live with that,” Han said.

The walk back to the _Falcon_ started out quiet – Chewie strode ahead to open the ship up for them, Leia and Luke seemed to be silently communing, and Skywalker’s brashness had given way to a hesitant sincerity. Every time that Han thought he had the guy figured out, something new happened. He wouldn’t have expected the honesty and he hadn’t been expecting Skywalker to give anything away.

It reminded him of everything he’d made himself forget. The collectable hologrammic card he’d had of Skywalker training, with a quote on the flip side where he’d been reported saying that all he really wanted was an end to the war and a chance for peace, a way for people to feel safe again.

After Skywalker’s death had been reported, Han had tossed the card away, along with everything else he’d had on the team. He’d had all his memories incinerated, because there hadn’t been any point in keeping them.

He’d jumped planet with the first trading crew he could find, and he hadn’t looked back.

He’d had years of scrambling for enough food to keep from starving for a week, of spending every waking moment filthy from oil and dust, of training himself not to give a damn about the universe and to only have faith in himself, not in some absent and unforgiving ‘force’.

Like many beings, he’d stopped respecting the religion that had betrayed him, betrayed all of them.

So, he’d forgotten. The name ‘Skywalker’ hadn’t meant a thing to him. The name ‘Kenobi’ hadn’t rung any bells. Hell, why should they? There’d been a famous governor from K’ukaye who’d been named Kenobi. And Han had run into a family of Skywalkers just three weeks ago. There were only so many names and it was a big galaxy.

And everyone had simply _known_ that Kenobi and Skywalker had died with the old Republic.

If all this hadn’t happened, Han might have gone for the rest of his life without realizing that Darth Vader and Anakin ‘Hero Without Fear’ Skywalker were the same.

And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to know how he felt about it.

Han sighed when he saw Skywalker slowing down and glancing back at him. If this was a stupid Jedi trick and Skywalker could tell when someone was _thinking_ about him… but Luke hadn’t ever done anything like that with Han. Then again, Luke was a hell of a lot more polite than Skywalker, which fit enough with what Han was starting to remember.

“You sounded like you know Dex better than they do,” Skywalker said, falling in step with Han, his gaze briefly flitting up to where Leia and Luke were walking together. “How is he?”

“He’s done well for himself,” Han said, fighting to be polite. “I don’t know what he was like in your time, but he’s an important guy here and now.”

“Important how, exactly?” Skywalker asked.

“He deals in goods and information,” Han said. “He’s there when people want to keep things out of the public eye.”

“You mean, when people want to avoid the law,” Skywalker said, sounding strained.

“What did you think we were talking about?” Han asked.

“I don’t know. Something else,” Skywalker said. “Dex never… traded for information that I can remember. He’d share things with Obi-Wan, but it wasn’t about money. It was because they were friends.”

“People don’t tend to do things because of friendship,” Han said. “Not anymore.”

“You aren’t doing your girlfriend’s cause any good,” Skywalker said wryly. “She wants to convince us that this future is wonderful.”

“I’m not going to claim that it’s wonderful,” Han said as they neared the ship. “But it’s _ours_ and we fought damn hard for it.”

“And you think that we didn’t?” Skywalker asked. Han shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, not wanting to get into the whole ‘horrible failure’ thing at the moment. Leia would want him to be polite and that meant _not_ punching Skywalker in the face.

After a moment, Skywalker headed off inside the ship, where he met up with Threepio and started talking away, like they were actual friends.

And that was another thing that was rubbing at Han. Skywalker _cared_ about droids. Like Luke and Leia did. Of all the things that Han might have thought they’d gotten from their father, he never would have gone for ‘compassion’.

Nothing fit right, anymore.

Days like this, he hated Luke a little.

Some lines weren’t supposed to get blurred.

Han wiped at his eyes, wishing that he’d gotten more sleep last night. On the other hand, he was still better off than Luke and Leia, who should be sleepwalking at this point. Actually, Leia did look like Chewie’s arm was the only reason that she was upright, but Luke still seemed wide-awake.

“Your guy really isn’t going to be expecting Anakin,” Luke said, while Han closed up the ship.

“Hopefully, that’ll be Skywalker’s problem,” Han said.

“Because he’ll just ignore the messengers?” Luke asked, sounding amused.

“Yeah, it doesn’t sound that likely,” Han said. “Remind me why we’re doing this.”

“The more we know, the better off we are,” Luke said. “And surprise throws people off-balance, makes them give away more than they were planning.”

“How are we the good guys, again?” Han asked, not really looking for an answer. He headed off towards the cockpit, Luke trailing behind.

“I think it’s the part where we never tried to oppress the galaxy,” Luke said. “So, how long have you known this contact of yours?”

“We’ve been acquainted for the better part of fifteen years,” Han said. “I bumped into him once when I was running away from the Empire. He was doing another piece of business in the same area and helped me out. Maybe saved my life.”

“What kind of-“

“Sorry, Luke, I don’t own that secret,” Han said, with a touch of regret. Part of him wanted to tell Luke and Leia everything about his past, even the parts he actually _was_ embarrassed about, but some stories were too sick to get into. “He saved somebody else’s life that day, too, and we’ll just leave it at that.”

Luke nodded slowly and Han was glad that he wasn’t pushing. Han settled down into his seat, setting the ship up for another quick hop. He’d been doing a lot of those, the last couple of days.

“I hope that he’s happy to see us,” Luke said, thoughtfully. “I think that would help Anakin.”

Han didn’t reply, since everything he could think of started with ‘I don’t care’. Being supportive was blasted _hard_. He didn’t know how he’d be able to swallow his tongue for a whole week, even for Leia and Luke’s sake.

“Though he seems more balanced today than he was yesterday,” Luke continued. “I wonder if…”

“What?” Han asked, despite himself. Luke shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

“I talked to Ben last night,” Luke said. Han tried not to wince, but he was pretty sure that Luke picked it up anyway. “Something that he said has been niggling at me.”

This time, Han stayed firm and didn’t encourage Luke. Not that that _stopped_ him.

“Han, what do you know about alt sexuality?” Luke asked.

"All right, where the hell did _that_ come from?” Han asked. Luke glanced out at the city, avoiding Han’s gaze. “Luke?”

“I didn’t learn much about it, on Tatooine,” Luke said, his words sounding carefully chosen and slightly uncertain. “They covered the basics – male and female add up to a child unless someone’s taking precautions, sexual desire is a normal part of a human’s growth cycle, and then all of the various physical changes. But there was only a brief mention of same-sex coupling, which they noted is much rarer in humans than in several other species that live on Tatooine. And that’s about it.”

Han added the concepts up – same-sex coupling, old Ben’s ghost as trigger, and Anakin being more balanced today. He blinked.

“Kenobi and Skywalker,” he said, experimentally. _The Team_. Never separated, always the perfect balance of talk and action, and yet... “I don’t know, Luke. Kenobi _trained_ Skywalker.”

“I’m not sure that would stop Anakin,” Luke said. “He’s… incredibly possessive of Obi-Wan. You must have noticed that.”

“A blind Heyas rat would have noticed,” Han said. “Are you basing all of this off of instinct or is there more to it than possessiveness and your ghost’s word?”

“Something’s changing between them,” Luke said, unhelpfully. “And we’re all caught in the middle. I don’t have any answers, Han, just questions.”

“Well, maybe we’ll get some answers when we see Dex,” Han said.

But he wasn’t holding out hope.


	42. Unwinnable Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin really wants to stop having conversations like this.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Master Anakin,” Threepio said, after Han and Luke headed off towards the cockpit and Leia and the Wookie strolled off down a different corridor. “I’ve been experiencing several odd sensations since you recovered my memory, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the others.”

“Too embarrassing?” Anakin asked, and he started to glance over Threepio’s external systems, wondering where the Wookie had come from. Then Anakin realized that he had to be the one that Threepio had said Artoo was ‘doing something complicated’ with, so long ago yesterday.

“I’m afraid so,” Threepio said. “Some things can only be trusted to the maker.”

“What kind of sensations are they?” Anakin asked, smiling a little as he reached down to his belt to pull an adjuster out from a pouch.

“Disorientation, as if the normal gravity of the planet is not sufficient to hold me steady,” Threepio said. “An odd sort of twisting sensation in my right leg. And… Master Anakin?”

“Yes, Threepio?” Anakin asked, kneeling down to tinker with the joint of Threepio’s leg.

“I miss Mistress Padmé,” he said, his normal brass tones as subdued as Anakin had ever heard them. “At least, I believe that I do. I keep expecting to see her and when I don’t, I feel as though something terribly important has been misplaced.”

“I miss her, too,” Anakin said softly, forcing himself to concentrate on fully integrating Threepio’s leg into the systems that Anakin had tweaked for him – it didn’t have any of the special adjustments that Anakin had made for the rest of the body, so it was no wonder that Threepio would feel off-balance now that his memory had returned. “It’s like a part of my heart is missing.”

“Why didn’t that useless astromech ever tell me?” Threepio asked plaintively. “All those years, he remembered.”

“He made the right decision,” Anakin said, looking up at Threepio and brushing a touch of oil off of his leg. “It must have been safer for you not to know. He’s smart, Threepio, and he wouldn’t have kept it from you without a good reason.”

“I suppose not,” Threepio said. “And it does explain some of the other things that he’s told me over the years, things that I thought were meaningless at the time.”

“Like what?” Anakin asked, standing up again and tucking the tool away in a pouch, where he heard it click against Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. That was another worry – Obi-Wan never forgot his lightsaber. Not being able to touch the Force had really thrown Obi-Wan off-balance and while Anakin couldn’t claim he disliked all of the effects of that, he didn’t like this one.

“He kept an incredibly close watch on Naboo,” Threepio said. “I couldn’t understand why, as Naboo was notable only as the birthplace of the Emperor, but now I do.”

“He kept track of Padmé’s family?” Anakin asked. Threepio nodded jerkily. “How- are her parents still alive?”

“Her mother is,” Threepio said. “And her sister’s children.”

“That’s… that’s wonderful news,” Anakin said. “I wonder why he never told Luke or Leia about that.”

“I have no idea, Master Anakin,” Threepio said. “I did tell them their mother’s family had survived, though I didn’t get a chance to tell them anything specific.”

“Just last night?” Anakin asked, but he didn’t need Threepio’s nod to confirm it. “I’d love to see Padmé’s mother again. She was nice.”

“I quite agree, sir,” Threepio said.

“That has to be part of Leia’s plan – reuniting us with Padmé’s family,” Anakin said, but he wasn’t sure why she thought it would work. They’d lost Padmé. Returning her to them would clearly be the right choice, if possible. Of course, Leia had been talking to Obi-Wan, but she had no reason to believe that Obi-Wan cared in the slightest about Padmé’s mother. Or even about Dex – they’d only mentioned that he’d shown an interest in ‘Skywalkers’.

What kind of game was that girl playing?

And he could sense her coming back now, without the Wookie.

“Does he have a name?” Anakin asked, just as she came around the corner.

“What?” she asked, looking faintly startled.

“Does your Wookie have a name?”

“Of course, he- oh, I see your point,” she said, coloring slightly. “That was Chewbacca.”

“That’s a Wyst Rayiyyni name,” Anakin said. The name itself sounded faintly familiar, and he was sure that he’d heard it in a lecture somewhere. Chewbacca looked old enough to have been established thirty years ago, so it might even be the same Wookie. “Was he born at the trading outpost?”

“I don’t know,” Leia said. “And… there isn’t a Wyst Rayinyyni anymore.”

Anakin stared at her for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to ask.

He’d better not – there was probably some way she could blame it on him and he wasn’t looking for a fight. He’d just wait until he was alone with Threepio again and then find out. Threepio tended to know most things, though he wasn’t very good at figuring out what was important.

“Where is it that we’re going?” Anakin asked. “From what your boyfriend said, Dex isn’t in as visible a part of Coruscant as he used to be.”

“You’re really going to go along with this,” she said, instead of answering his perfectly reasonable question. The people in this future were even more annoyingly secretive than the Jedi Council.

“Obi-Wan said we would,” Anakin said. “It’s not like I can leave without him.”

“It’s hard for me to picture you following his lead,” she said. “I suppose that I still haven’t adjusted to thinking of you as on the same side.”

“Sometimes, he follows my lead,” Anakin said, ignoring the rest of what she’d said. “That’s what teamwork _is_. Look, if you just want to argue… I don’t. I don’t _know_ any of the background that you’re arguing from. I can’t win with you. So just… stop.”

“I don’t- I don’t want to fight with you,” Leia said, glancing away from him. He could feel the conflict in her, a venomous anger twisting around itself. “But I’m not like Luke and I can’t just be happy about this.”

“His feelings aren’t as simple as that,” Anakin said, and her gaze flicked back towards him, eyes wide and surprised. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Only the most obvious emotions,” she said. “I never had any training as a Jedi. All of my training was political. My father wasn’t a religious man and he was careful to never speak of the Jedi where anyone could overhear him.”

“I thought _I_ was your father,” Anakin said.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Leia said, but Anakin could feel her embarrassment. “I was speaking of my adoptive father.”

“Oh, that’s right, you mentioned an adoptive father the other day,” Anakin said and the words felt wrong in his mouth. If she was _his_ daughter, then he should have been the one to raise her. “But I wasn’t dead.”

“No one knew that you were our father,” Leia said. “Not even you. _Especially_ not you.”

“I would never hurt my own children,” Anakin said stiffly.

“You hurt Luke,” she said. “You’re the one who cut off his hand. And you _did_ know that he was your son by then.”

“He must have provoked me,” Anakin said, miserably aware that it wasn’t a very good defense. This was exactly the kind of conversation that he’d wanted to avoid. Although it did bring up the question of why Luke didn’t seem to be holding any grudges.

“You killed General Kenobi,” she said. Anakin shook his head, but his denial died on his lips. She wasn’t lying, he could feel it. She hadn’t lied to him about anything.

He’d been the one who’d killed Obi-Wan. The knowledge should be killing him, but all he felt inside was the odd clicking in of a puzzle piece. He’d felt the strength of his own hate in the Jedi Temple, he’d heard the words that he’d left for Obi-Wan there, and Anakin could easily believe that the man who’d felt that much hate towards Obi-Wan could kill him. And the edge of regret that he’d felt coming from Obi-Wan’s ghost made an interesting amount of sense, now.

But all of his anxiety was wrapped up in the vision he’d had of _his_ Obi-Wan dying, and he didn’t have any to waste on a matter already over and done with.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said to Leia. Anger shone in her eyes, but he turned away. “I know better now. I know about Palpatine and I know about the Republic falling. I'm not that man that you hate and I refuse to become him. I'll never be that monster of yours.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, and her voice shook.

The ship shuddered slightly as it landed.

Anakin was hoping, too.


	43. Bitter Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Mothma have a chat over breakfast, and he learns more about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been quite a long time since this story was updated. Years! I'd like to thank fingersfallingupwards & all the other people who have commented on it, because it was seeing that feedback that made me want to go back and re-read the story, re-watch the movies, and take a stab at finishing up this story.
> 
> Hopefully, I'm not too rusty!
> 
> The galactic calendar standard that I mention comes from the Wiki here: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Galactic_Standard_Calendar
> 
> I'll try to post new parts once a week.

The Force was playing games with him.

Really, Obi-Wan thought, that was the only possible solution. To give him this time and place where he could have Anakin in ways he'd never dreamed of, but also show him all of Anakin’s flaws and mistakes in more painful depth than he ever could have imagined – it could only be the work of a heartless galaxy.

And yet, it seemed that he was fated to be trapped here for a while longer.

Obi-Wan smiled at Mothma and reached out for another small sliver of fruit, not allowing his annoyance at her delays to show on his face. One of the problems with being famously diplomatic was the need to be patient when people were stalling. And, without doubt, Mothma wasn’t quite ready to begin the discussion that she wanted so dearly. So they sat here together, in the dull and bland little dining hall that perfectly matched the rest of the dreary building, ate thankfully fresh fruit that Obi-Wan suspected must come from the rooftop garden, and spoke of inconsequential things until she was ready to reach her purpose.

The Force had brought him here – Obi-Wan no longer had any doubts about that. This wasn’t an accident. The cards were too well aligned. Much as he would love to be able to go home and fix all of this bloodshed and terror, Leia’s words wouldn’t let him. There was _something_ about the girl, something that needed working out.

“General Kenobi,” Mothma said, hesitantly, at least for her. “You may be wondering why I requested for you to attend this breakfast alone.”

“The question had occurred to me.”

“I mean Master Skywalker no disrespect, but in my early work of the rebellion, when I was given the chance to speak with you, there was a bitterness about you when Anakin Skywalker’s name came up in the conversation,” Mothma said. Her words continued to come carefully, her mouth occasionally firming into a tight line in between words as she nodded slightly to herself. “Nothing to point to specifically, you understand, but there were enough oddities about the whole business to make someone wonder if something terrible had happened between the two of you before he died."

She was so different than she'd been before – sharper, as though the years without the Jedi had honed her to a razor's point. Her eyes had paled slightly with the passage of time and fine lines had worked into her face, giving her a depth of character that she'd sorely lacked the last time he'd seen her – five weeks ago… no, more than _two decades_ ago.

What did she see when she looked at him?

She was still waiting for him to speak, to give something away, and he was content to let her wait, sampling the supplied breakfast instead of acting rashly. So, the older version of himself had given out hints that Anakin had become less than trustworthy but… he'd never told her what had happened. Luke had spoken truly when he'd said that almost no one knew that Anakin Skywalker and the dreaded Darth Vader were one and the same.

That told him that he hadn't changed much at all – he'd still protected Anakin, even when it was an obviously foolish thing to do.

For all their outward victories for the sake of the Republic, it was increasingly clear to Obi-Wan that the Council had chosen very poorly when they'd relented to allow him to train Anakin. And yet, even with that knowledge burning inside him, he would choose no differently. 

Attachment truly was dangerous.

“Perhaps it happened later than what you remember,” Mothma ventured. Obi-Wan inclined his head, acknowledging her point. She licked her lower lip, her eyes narrowing slightly. “General Kenobi, what _do_ you remember? Perhaps I can help construct a timeline for you.”

“I appreciate the offer. Anakin and I have been informed about some of the events that happened after... whatever caused us to skip forward in time, but more information is always advantageous,” Obi-Wan said. Threepio had been remarkably helpful in that regard, once Anakin had restored his memory. And there was more, yet, for both Threepio and now Artoo to tell them. But that could wait until a little later, when he and Anakin had the chance to be alone again. Obi-Wan didn't have Anakin's intuition with droids, but he did trust that they wouldn't lie or otherwise reshape the truth to suit their needs. He didn't dare be so certain about any of the people they'd met in this time, no matter how well-intentioned they might seem. “Anakin and I were assigned to be emergency diplomatic envoys to a small system that was in danger of being swallowed up by the Separatists. We first set out on that mission in the third month of year fifteen. By the Great ReSynchronization standard, if that's already been changed to something else.”

“That would be... roughly one year before the Emperor claimed supreme power.” She paused, thoughtfully, her eyes looking past him for a moment. He didn't need the Force to sense her uncertainty. “Then our young Skywalker may have come as something of a surprise to you when you arrived here. He might not have been conceived yet, I imagine.” 

“Ah. I've been wondering how widely known it is – was – about Luke and his relationship to Anakin.” Obi-Wan took a sip of the tart juice provided for his breakfast, using it to hide the way his mouth wanted to twitch into a frown.

“Not many do know, even now. I'm not entirely certain Luke Skywalker has realized that _I_ know. He came as a great revelation to us all, you must understand,” Mothma said. “A new Jedi, come back to us when we thought all but you and Master Yoda were lost to the Empire's purge. From what I have pieced together so far, after Anakin Skywalker was killed, Luke was given into your hands. You both returned to Tatooine and you were his mentor... under the guidance of his aunt and uncle, who Luke mentioned were killed by Imperial Stormtroopers. Luke has said he was never told who his mother was. To protect him... or perhaps to protect her?” When Obi-Wan didn't answer, she continued, “In any case, we wouldn't have had a hope of overthrowing the Empire without him. He executed both the Emperor and the Emperor's faithful servant, the murderous Lord Vader, as well as being instrumental in neutralizing two Death Stars.”

“Death Stars?” Obi-Wan inquired, but his thoughts were distracted. He'd already known that Anakin was dead in this time, but Mothma mentioning it so casually left him feeling off-balance. Obi-Wan glanced over at where Artoo had tucked itself into a corner and wondered if Artoo and Threepio could tell him about how that had happened. In this specific case, he didn't feel he could trust to Luke's honesty on the matter. This was a subject Luke hadn't broached, for understandable reasons, and if the child had been forced by circumstances to kill his own father, it would be a kindness not to make him talk about it, if possible.

“Battlestations powerful enough to destroy a planet. You will be grieved to know that our mutual friend Bail Organa was killed, and even more saddened to learn that the whole of Alderaan was destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Now she had his attention back, fully and completely. “An entire planet?”

“As an example to those who would defy the Empire.”

“Did they have time to evacuate any of the population?”

“No one knew what the ship meant. There was no warning for the people of Alderaan,” Mothma said. “Princess Leia was there, on that ship, a captive of the Empire until she was rescued by Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, who returned her to us. She then took up the mantel of her father's legacy with maturity and grace. I can assure you Bail Organa will not be forgotten.”

“She lost much to the Empire,” Obi-Wan said. His throat felt dry. “Her family. Her home.” And Obi-Wan was now threatening to take away her very existence. It was a miracle that she didn't hate him as she did Anakin. _You will have your week, child_ , Obi-Wan promised silently. _And as much aid as I can give you_. “You have all lost so much.”

“So you can see why I was pleased that the Force gave us back something,” Mothma said, reaching out and placing her cool hand over his. “General Kenobi, you were the touchstone that the older generation of the Rebellion held to when all hope seemed lost. Bail always said, you would bring hope back to us, somehow, if we only trusted to the Force. You first did that in the form of giving us Luke. Now, you can do it more directly. You've said that you want to go home, but we need you here. This can be your home.”

“I'm not sure that's wise,” Obi-Wan countered. “The Jedi did not sense the origin of this crisis in time. We failed you and the cost of our failure was twenty years of pain and oppression for the galaxy. What use do I have this in new world of yours, Minister Mothma? I am merely a relic of the old one.”

“I asked myself that question, too, when you first arrived. But then I also asked myself if I was supposed to believe that the great Negotiator couldn't learn our new ways,” she said with a gentle smile, lightly squeezing his hand. “You were a giant to us all, General Kenobi. Jedi Master Kenobi. Think about my offer. Being able to present you and the Hero Without Fear, brought through time by the Force to reunite the Republic... there are many who remember your names. Many who would pay attention if they saw that the best part of the Old Republic was brought back to us. Please... consider the possibilities. You and... and Master Skywalker are welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“Your young Leia asked much the same of us,” Obi-Wan said. “I can promise that I will speak to Anakin and that we'll consider your proposal, but I can give you no guarantees.”

“I understand. Now, is there anything you'd like to ask of me while I'm at your disposal?”

“We need current newscasts, if the press still exists.” Obi-Wan considered the matter a bit more. “A place where we can look up recent history, if it's been collected somewhere. I need to learn more about this Empire, about everything. And if it would be possible for you to send some non-Force-attuned beings to clean up the Jedi Temple, I would be most grateful. There's a substance on the steps and throughout the complex that magnifies psychic residue and makes anyone with Force-sensitivity feel quite ill. There's a particular cleansing agent that will hopefully help counteract it. I can give your people the instructions on how to create it.” He gave her his best smile. “After all, if Anakin and I do choose to stay, we might want to be able to have... familiar surroundings.”

Mon Mothma nodded, taking away her hand. “That all sounds quite reasonable. I will do what I can. Unfortunately, after this breakfast ends, I won't be available to speak with you for a few days – so much to do as we lead up to the anniversary – but I will send someone to keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Minister. They will likely find me in that lovely rooftop garden of yours,” Obi-Wan said. Mothma's smile brightened, warming her entire face.

“I'm glad we have a place of beauty available for you, General Kenobi,” she said. “I know this building must come as a bit of a shock to a man of your refined sensibilities. It serves its purpose, but elegance was not part of its design.”

“Given where our devotion to elegance appears to have led in the past, perhaps it's not such a terrible thing that this new Republic of yours has a different focus,” Obi-Wan said, doing his best to keep his melancholy from showing on his face. “I do admire you, all of you, for fighting so hard to bring democracy back. Even if it means bare walls.” 

Obi-Wan took a final piece of fruit, his thoughts drifting to Anakin. Surely not in danger from Luke now, despite the pulse of worry Obi-Wan felt from Mothma had just told him.

Still, hopefully he was staying out of trouble.


	44. Paternal Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han and Leia bring Luke and Anakin to meet with Dex.

For the second time in as many days, Han tapped lightly on the door to Dex's underground lair. Luke and Anakin had pulled the hoods of their cloaks forward to shadow their faces and Luke had given Leia a cloak, too, though Han could still see the lower half of her face. Still that should, hopefully, keep Dex's people happy about not publicly seeing representatives of the New Republic at their door. See-Threepio wasn't in disguise, but Han didn't think that would be a problem.

Though, frankly, he wasn't sure why Anakin had wanted Threepio along.

Chewie and Dex didn't get along great these days, so Chewie had stayed on board the _Falcon_ to finally get through some of the upgrades they'd had planned for a while. He'd asked for the droid to stay on the ship to help him with the translation matrix, but Anakin had overruled him, said he wanted Threepio to come with them to Dex's. And, like he'd done every other time Anakin wanted something, Threepio had agreed immediately.

It creeped Han out, how quickly things like that could change. Not that he'd been particularly attached to Threepio, not like Luke and Leia were... but it did set up an itch under his skin to see how easily the droid had transferred loyalties.

The holocover shimmered away again and Han met the eyes of the guard briefly. There was a slow blink and the door opened. Lylaan ushered them inside, her lavender mouth curved into a slight smile as she glanced between Luke and Anakin's hooded forms.

“You and Senator Organa have brought us _two_ Jedi?” she asked, after the door was securely shut again behind them all. “Most unexpected, though not displeasing. Will the Jedi leave their cloaks at the door? I would also ask if I might be able to hold their lightsabers, just while they meet with Dex, of course. The rest of you, please place your weapons in the holding box.” She waved a hand towards the box in the wall, her gaze gliding briefly away from Luke and Anakin to survey the rest of the group.

Han let out of huff of annoyance, but placed his blaster into the same holding box as yesterday. So, the rules were different for Jedi? It seemed to be quite a trend.

Luke shed his cloak first, hanging it up on a peg next to the door. He unclipped his lightsaber and handed it to Lylaan without a fuss. Leia was next to remove her cloak and place her blaster in the box.

Anakin, however, hesitated.

He pulled his hood back slowly. Lylaan's eyes studied his face and then she gasped, her free hand darting out as if to touch him but then immediately pulling back.

“You must be the Skywalker boy,” she said to Anakin, and Han saw her hand clutch at Luke's weapon. “You look... you look much like your father.”

“As a matter of fact, there's more than one Skywalker here,” Anakin said. Lylaan looked over at Luke, studying him as she had Anakin. Her eyes were practically glowing, more joyous than he'd ever seen her. If she only knew the truth... but Han wouldn't be the one to tell her.

“Remarkable,” she said, her cheeks heating up violet. She fumbled slightly with Luke's lightsaber, then held it back towards him. “The... the children of one of Dex's dear friends are most welcome.” There was a slight question in her voice, and something that he didn't want to call awe.

“Thank you,” Luke said, but he didn't take the lightsaber back. “We appreciate your hospitality, but I wouldn't dream of asking you to change the rules for me.”

Anakin seemed to take this as a hint towards himself, because he reached inside his cloak and removed his own lightsaber, handing it to Lylaan. He didn't remove his cloak, though, and it didn't seem like Lylaan or Luke were going to press the point.

“Welcome, welcome,” she said, almost breathless. “Han – General Solo – you know the way. I must inform Dex of these new developments before you speak with him, so please wait a moment or two before heading down.” She pressed the button in the wall that opened the door to the stairway and hurried off, the two lightsabers still tight in her hands.

Luke leaned towards Anakin and asked, in a tone that wouldn't reach past the group, “Do you know her?”

“She's a bit young for that,” Anakin said, with a shake of his head. “She's probably seen holos of me.” His voice was as quiet as Luke's. “I know you've said most things about me were destroyed, but I suspect someone with Dex's connections and ability to hide himself would be able to get his hands on a lot of things other people might not be willing to hold onto.”

“Well, right now, it seems like they're happy to see us, so try not to ruin that,” Han said.

“I don't _try_ to make people angry,” Anakin said.

“It just sort of happens naturally?” Han couldn't keep himself from asking. Anakin glared at him and then gave half a shrug as if to concede the point. Han also couldn't help but remember that Anakin still had Obi-Wan's lightsaber hidden in that cloak of his, and he hoped that nothing would lead Anakin to feel like he needed to use it.

Though Han couldn't really blame him for wanting to hold onto a weapon in a strange place, filled with people who were generally hostile towards him. Hostile for good reason, sure, but hostile all the same.

After Han felt like they'd spent enough time cooling their heels in the entry hall, he led the group down the stairs. He would swear that the lights were brighter today than they'd been yesterday. He wondered if _that_ was in honor of the Jedi being around, too.

And the galaxy was going to have to get used to having them around again, especially once Luke opened up his school or academy or whatever it was that he planned on calling it. In the long run, it was for the best. Probably.

The group filed into Dex's office – there was room to spread out, but Han found himself staying close to the others regardless. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dex, but he wasn't sure that he trusted Dex's Jedi-related agenda. The Jedi had left a lot of unfinished business behind them when they'd been killed off.

Dex was standing in front of his desk, Lylaan next to him. She leaned up towards him and whispered something that Han didn't catch, but her gaze was stuck on Anakin.

“I see,” Dex rumbled. He tugged at the hem of his pink button-down shirt with his lower left arm. He'd dressed up a bit to meet the Jedi, it seemed, and the sleeve of his upper right arm was pinned neatly to cover his stump.

“Dex?” Anakin stepped out of their group and walked towards Dex. “It's been too long.”

Dex's eyes widened and he reached out with his upper left hand to cup Anakin's face. “By all the stars in the galaxy... you are _not_ Anakin Skywalker's son, are you?”

“No.” Anakin clasped one of his hands over Dex's wrist and then he smiled and, just like that, as if someone had flipped a switch, he was so recognizably the _dashing_ Anakin Skywalker, Hero of the Republic and well-known face of the HoloNet. Han almost flinched. “I'm not.”

Dex's lower arms tugged Anakin into a tight hug, and he pressed his forehead against Anakin's. “Old friend,” Han heard him murmur. “How is this possible?”

Anakin hugged him back for a moment, then pushed away slightly. “As the Masters liked to tell us – in the Force, all things are possible.”

“So they are. So they are.” Dex patted Anakin heavily on the back. “But even if you escaped from the purge, my friend, how are you still so young? The lifecycle of humans isn't so long as that.”

“It's a complicated story, and I don't know it all myself,” Anakin said. “I'm not exactly the last Anakin that you saw. Obi-Wan and I... we've come forward in time somehow, Dex. You might be able to help us figure out what happened, actually. Obi-Wan has always said you were one of the smartest beings he knows.”

“Traveling in time?” Dex reached up and stroked his chin. “Mystical Force doings, I shouldn't doubt.”

“That's what we think, too.”

“So, Obi-Wan is here? But he didn't come with you to see old Dex.”

“The Minister wanted to speak with him,” Anakin said, with a slight roll to his eyes that made Dex laugh.

“Governments always demand their due,” Dex said. “But I hope you bring him by when you get the chance. Dead friends don't come back to life every day.”

“It's good to see you, too.” Anakin said, that charming smile still firmly in place. “Now, I think you said something about Anakin Skywalker's son?” He stepped away from Dex and reached out his hand. “I'd like to introduce you to Luke. My son.” Anakin's gaze flickered over to Leia, and he parted his lips as if to add to his introductions, but then he looked away from her, back at Luke.

Luke came towards them, smiling serenely at Anakin and Dex. Anakin wrapped his arm around Luke's shoulder companionably. More friendly than Han had ever seen him behaving toward the kid before, frankly.

“I was a little surprised to meet him,” Anakin said, which was accurate as far as it went but, in Han's opinion, remained something of a criminal understatement. “But you'll like him, I think. He wants to revive the Jedi Order.”

“A noble task,” Dex said. “The Jedi... they weren't perfect, but they didn't deserve what the Empire did to them.”

“I hope I'm up to the job,” Luke said, shaking Dex's welcoming hand. “It's very good to get to know you. I haven't had the chance to meet many of my father's friends.” Dex wrapped a second hand around Luke's and gave it an extra pump, his gaze turning back to Anakin.

“Our young Anakin with a child of his own,” Dex said. He let go of Luke's hand and punched lightly at Anakin's shoulder. “Ever since I first heard the rumors of a Skywalker Jedi coming out of nowhere, I wondered if you might be involved. Still strange to know for certain that it's true. Who was your gene-partner, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Senator Amidala is... was my wife,” Anakin said. Han craned his head slightly but he couldn't see Anakin's face anymore. “But in secret.”

“Aah. The Jedi policy against attachment?”

“Exactly.”

“Terrible policy.”

“I think we all agree on that,” Luke said. “The new Jedi aren't going enforce anything like that. Love and loyalty don't have to lead to anything terrible.”

Dex lifted up the corner of his mouth, whiskers quivering. “Oh, but they can, though.” He reached over and touched his sleeve where it was pinned up. “Anakin, you've probably been wondering about the arm.”

“I wasn't going to ask,” Anakin said.

“Obi-Wan managed to hammer some politeness into you at last, I see,” Dex said. “It was loyalty. To the Jedi. Ah, well. To Obi-Wan, truth be told. The Emperor's enforcer took my arm when I refused to say anything about where Master Kenobi was. Funny. I didn't actually know anything, but stars take me if I would tell that monster as much.”

“The Emperor's enforcer?” Anakin asked.

“He means Darth Vader,” Han said. Anakin looked back at him sharply, and then glanced at Dex for confirmation.

“Aye, that's the one. The Emperor's right hand. Dared to call himself a Jedi after he helped kill off all the real ones. Still surprised he didn't kill me too. Must have assumed that old Dex wasn't much of a threat.”

“Vader did a lot of the dirty work for the Empire,” Leia said.

“That's right,” Dex said. “You're the Alderaan girl, ain't you? My people have told me all about you since we last spoke. In politics since you were small, in the Rebellion since you were old enough to carry a message. I'm sorry about your people. And that I didn't know last time. So many were killed by the Empire that it's hard to keep track of all the losses.”

“Thank you,” Leia said. For a moment, there was a hint of vulnerability around her eyes, but then she lifted her chin and got back to business. “And now that you've seen that our Jedi are real... would you be willing to speak about dealing with the New Republic?”

“I have some requests, some minor details that I would have you run by your Minister before I speak with a representative,” Dex said. Lylaan produced a data chip from a pocket at her hip and handed it over to Leia.

“I promise that I will deliver this personally.”

“I appreciate that,” Dex said. “Anakin, you _will_ stay out of trouble? I would hate to lose my old friend again so soon.”

“I'll do my best, Dex, but you know how trouble loves to follow me around,” Anakin said. Han certainly wouldn't argue with that. “I'll bring Obi-Wan back soon and we'll all get a chance to catch up.”

“But first, today, you'll stay and eat with us. No arguments,” Dex said. “I don't get the chance to cook much these days, but I can still fry up a Naomian egg that will make you weep.”

“We'd be honored,” Anakin said. He let go of Luke at last, but not before lightly ruffling his hand through Luke's hair.

Luke seemed thrown a bit off-balance by it all, not that Han blamed him.

Then Anakin went off with Dex and Lylaan, and he started telling them a story, something about him and Obi-Wan and a rained-soaked battle. It sounded annoyingly exciting, if Han forced himself to be honest.

Han sternly ignored the part of himself that wanted to listen and instead he went to Luke and nudged his shoulder, leaning in close. “How much of that proud father act was real?” he asked, keeping a smile on his face and his voice low enough that no one else should be able to hear.

“Not a single word of it,” Luke said, just as quietly. “Han, I don't understand him at all.”

“You and me both, kid.”


	45. Shadows and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan takes time to think over everything he's learned about this future, and comes to some conclusions.

Obi-Wan was not bickering with a droid. There was no point to arguing with something that had no sentience; something that was a machine and not a being. It would be quite below his dignity as a Jedi.

Artoo beeped emphatically.

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Well, I happen to disagree with your perspective on that matter,” Obi-Wan said. Not pettily. There was nothing _reasonable_ about being petty in a conversation with a droid. Even when that droid was being exceedingly aggravating. “I'll allow that you know more of the relevant history than I do, but I'd like to think that I have the stronger grasp of human behavior.”

Artoo's chittering zing made it clear how little he thought of Obi-Wan's opinion in this particular situation.

“Now, see, that's completely unfair.” Obi-Wan wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself as they waited for the lift to finish taking them up to the roof. “And don't think you can get away with swearing just because Anakin isn't around. I _can_ understand enough of what you say to know that that wasn't appropriate language for you to be using.”

This time, Artoo uttered not a sound.

“Ah, and now you're not speaking to me?” Obi-Wan asked. “ _I'm_ not the one who asked you to stay with me. If you're going to blame anyone, you should be blaming Anakin.”

The doors opened and Obi-Wan headed out towards the garden, Artoo following behind him. As silently as it could do, he noticed.

Obi-Wan traveled down the first part of the path without thinking deeply about much of anything at all, but then he spotted the Eyer’luom. He paused in front of the plant, Artoo stopped behind him.

Anakin had offered him one of the blossoms yesterday. Obi-Wan had dismissed the idea out of hand; hadn't wanted to confront what such an impulse on Anakin's part might mean. Here and now, Obi-Wan reached out and touched the soft, firm petal of the nearest flower. The blue of it was deeper and more glorious by day than it had been at night.

What a foolish, irrational thing romance was. The giving of useless gifts in order to cultivate esteem. Touches for no other reason than _to_ touch. Sleeping next to someone out of a longing for comfort, not out of necessity. It was all... nonsense. It was all meant to be nonsense, at least to a Jedi. There was some rationality in the simple slaking of physical desire, for those who felt it, but affection for the sake of affection was... forbidden.

Obi-Wan shook his head sharply. Not forbidden, technically, simply... impractical. Pointless. A Jedi did not – must not – feel the tug of romantic desire. It was innately jealous, innately possessive, innately _passionate_.

Wasn't it?

Perhaps that was part of why the Jedi had failed in his time. They'd held themselves so far apart from the rest of that galaxy. They'd believed that lack of passion was the same as objectivity, yet all their dispassionate knowledge had not led them to discover the truth behind Chancellor Palpatine's façade. They had been fooled by a politician's play-acting. 

Obi-Wan delicately cupped the flower in his hand, careful not to break the stem, as a realization came to him.

Chancellor Palpatine must be the Sith Lord; that much was clear from what he'd learned here. And yet the Separatists were also led by a Sith, Count Dooku.

The war that had consumed the last few years of his life was nothing but a lie. The war _had always been_ a lie.

It was a dizzying thought.

They'd wondered at the serendipity of having an army at hand, just when they'd needed one. But the war itself had been so exhausting, with Jedi sent here and there to lead the charge, that they'd stopped themselves from questioning their good luck too deeply. They'd been so foolish.

No. _He_ had been foolish. He'd been the one investigating, who had found the army in the first place; he'd even had his suspicions back then. Yet when the clone army had come to save him on Geonosis, he'd let that stop his mind from working on the problem. He'd allowed himself to be distracted by what had seemed to be a more immediate threat.

It had never been the Jedi Council's army. It must have always been Palpatine's, ordered by Count Dooku for the Jedi's use, so that the Republic would have a way to fight the Separatists. So that the war _could_ be bloody and long, so that it could take the Jedi Order's attention away from Palpatine's careful amassing of ever-more power within the Senate. Until the day when no more care had been needed, and Palpatine could topple the Republic.

And murder Obi-Wan's family.

His fingers tightened slightly, threatening the flower. He forced himself to relax.

Part of him still wanted to protest the idea. He had – all of them had – put so many other duties of the Jedi to the side in order to fight the war. It seemed impossible to even consider that it had all been entirely in vain, that the winner had been determined before the first blow had been struck. And reminding himself that the dark side had clouded so much seemed like such a thin excuse now.

He focused on the Eyer’luom again, trying to calm his mind.

They took care of their plants here – not a single spot or mar was to be found. The vivid blue on the edge of the petals paled in the middle of the blossom, and there was a healthy light fuzz on the underside of the flower. He stared into the center deeply for a moment, and then released it, watching it sway back to its former position.

He'd reached for the Force again, just then, trying to find his answers. How long would he keep reaching for something that no longer responded?

Another thought, more painful, came to him. If he did learn to stop reaching, would he then forget how to touch the Force once his connection was renewed?

Another question that he had no means of answering. There were far too many of those.

Obi-Wan turned and strode along the path, leaving the Eyer’luom behind. He didn't stop next to any of the other flowers, didn't stop at all until he reached the clearing where Anakin and Luke had dueled yesterday. Then he removed his cloak and reached down for his lightsaber.

His lightsaber which was... not by his side. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn't taken it with him when he'd left his room this morning. He considered going back inside to fetch it, but dismissed the thought. It wouldn't be there any more. Anakin would have spotted it as soon as Obi-Wan left, he'd be willing to wager.

“I'll never hear the end of it,” he said. Artoo chittered a question. Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn't... it doesn't matter.” He dropped his cloak on the ground and, for good measure, dropped himself on top of it. No lightsaber practice, then. Perhaps that was for the best in his present condition. “Artoo, I think I'm going to take a nap.” It was shady enough for that here. “Keep an eye out for that aide of Mothma's?”

There was a simple affirmative beep from Artoo.

“Very kind of you,” Obi-Wan murmured, letting himself drift into a daydream.

In some ways, this was almost more familiar than sleeping in a bed. He and Anakin had slept on the ground on countless occasions since the war had begun. Artoo's presence only added to the familiarity. And the ground here was close to perfection – no large rocks digging into his backside, neither too hard nor too soft, and a gentle cushion of grass protecting him from the dirt. Even in his half-awake state, Obi-Wan couldn't quite keep himself from reaching for the Force, but that urgency dimmed as he relaxed into something of an impromptu meditation.

Time slipped away and Obi-Wan filled his mind with simple thoughts and memories. Once, when Anakin had still been a youth – all of fourteen and very proud of his recent growth spurt – Obi-Wan hadn't been allowed to take him to see his mother as he'd requested, but he was able to secure them time enough for Anakin to have a break from his lessons and chores to take a bit of a holiday in the shadow of a mountain-range of a nearby planet. Anakin had delighted in the woods and the small streams. He'd thrown stones at a lake and crowed when he'd managed to get one to skip five times before sinking.

He'd sulked for days when they'd gotten back to Coruscant. The first real time he'd sulked, though such behavior would grow more and more common as Anakin traversed the treacherous human adolescent years.

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered if he shouldn't have taken Anakin to Tatooine himself that year, and damn what the Council had recommended. Perhaps it would have helped quell Anakin's teenage rebellion, if he'd been allowed to see that the Jedi _could_ compromise, when it mattered.

Or, at least, if he'd seen that Obi-Wan could.

And then if he'd trusted Obi-Wan a bit more, Anakin might have told him about his marriage long ago, maybe even before it happened. He might have told him details about the encouragements that Chancellor Palpatine had given him, and perhaps Obi-Wan would have spotted the poison that must have been in the man's words.

 _Perhaps_ and _if_ , indeed. All the 'ifs' in the galaxy couldn't change the past. What was done was done.

Only that was exactly what he and Anakin had decided to do, wasn't it, as soon as they'd realized what this future contained? They'd decided that it was their duty to undo the past and create a new future. Yet, it was their own generation's missteps that had caused this future in the first place. If he and Anakin did go back and try to change events, would it even be possible to turn the tide of history?

This was precisely why he needed that historical information from Minister Mothma. He still didn't know exactly what had happened, what steps had led to the murder of their entire Order and Anakin's turn to the dark side. Until they knew what those causes were, they couldn't truly begin to understand how to change things – or even _if_ they could. Going back now, on the little information they currently had, could very well create an even more broken future. He and Anakin dared not act rashly.

Of course, all that assumed that there _was_ a way to get back. Time travel was something out of legend, not well-documented history. Obi-Wan would like to believe that if the Force had brought them to this time, then the Force could take them home again, but there were few guarantees in life.

Artoo made a soft sound and Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, staring up at the tops of the trees and the little circle they formed far above his head. He propped himself up on his elbows and listened. Ah, there was the gentle crunch of footsteps and the call of a light voice saying, “General Kenobi? Sir?”

He sat up more properly on his cloak before calling back, “Yes, in the clearing!”

She was tall and thin, dressed in the white uniform he'd noted on other members of Mothma's staff, and had pale orange skin. Her hair, writhing and scaled a bright red, marked her as a member of the Ho'Din people, who could sense heat with their hair-tendrils. Seeing him on the ground, she promptly came over and joined him, lithely seating herself in front of him. “General Kenobi. It is a deep honor to meet you. I am Plajin, here to serve as your link to Minister Mothma while she is busy organizing the anniversary celebration.” Her bony hand reached into her belt pouch several times, pulling out data slips, a portable holovid, and a small datapad, all of which she handed to him. “We have gathered some of the information you requested from the Minister and are working on compiling more. I am also to receive instructions from you on the making of a cleansing agent for the Jedi Temple. We plan to start as soon as we are able.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, matching her grave tone with his own. He tapped at the datapad quickly, and then gave it back to her when he was done. “They should not be stingy with their work. It may take a great deal of the fluid to clear away the effects of the drug.”

She nodded seriously and slipped the datapad back into her pouch. “The Minister wants very much for you to feel at home here, General Kenobi. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time?”

“What do you know of the fall of the Jedi Order, Plajin?” Obi-Wan asked. She would, of course, attempt to tell him nothing that Mothma had not given him permission to know, but there were always details that slipped through the tightest restrictions. She certainly didn't look surprised by the question.

“I know as much as most members of the New Republic government, I believe, and perhaps more than some.” Her eyes, an unrelieved black with no iris or sclera, met his gaze calmly. “The official story was that the Jedi rebelled and had to be killed before they could murder the Emperor. The true story is that the Jedi fought to keep the Republic from falling.” She brushed at the cloth of her tunic, though it bore no dirt that he could see. “The soldiers of the Old Republic turned on their generals en masse, slaughtering them before they realized they'd been betrayed.”

“All of them? Do you know why?” Obi-Wan asked. Despite his own conclusions earlier, it was hard to imagine Commander Cody or any of the other clones he'd worked with doing anything like that. They were loyal almost to a fault. Plajin shook her head, her hair coiling in on itself reflexively.

“The late Senator Bail Organa, who was closest to the Jedi of any in the Rebellion, shared much, but there were details that he said were too dangerous to relate,” she said. “If he knew why the army so easily betrayed their leaders, that secret died with him.” She took a slow breath before continuing. “After the initial strike, there was the Great Purge, led by a monster clad all in black, known as Lord Vader... or Darth Vader. I believe the Minister has spoken of him to you?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan took care to keep his voice smooth and level.

“There were many generals in the Empire, most of whom committed unspeakable crimes, but there was only one Darth Vader. A Senator once described him as the Emperor's attack dog. He could use the Force, just as the Jedi could, and he used his power in terrible ways to hunt down what most believed to be all the remaining Jedi.” Plajin's voice had developed a slight quaver. “They raided political buildings and businesses and even homes, destroying any evidence of the Jedi's integrity or power. They killed all who publicly disagreed with this policy, so most learned to feign acceptance lest they be the next victims. Great sums were promised to those who would betray any Jedi in hiding, and there were several trials and executions that played on the HoloNet.” She looked down at her hands, her next words coming slowly. “In those, the Jedi were bound and gagged, given no opportunity to protest the charges, and then gutted with a common butcher's knife. Killed like animals, in order to help dispel any remaining mysticism surrounding the Order. The Jedi were named charlatans and traitors to peace and prosperity. Being a Jedi was a death sentence.”

She seemed to need a moment to collect herself, after that. She looked young for her species, so he wondered if she'd already known all this, or if she'd had to be briefed on the relevant history before being sent to him. 

“Thank you, Plajin,” Obi-Wan said, trying to hide his horror. He feared he was failing. “That was... thorough, I believe.”

“I am glad to be of service, General Kenobi,” she said, regaining her poise. “Do you have any other requests? I have been given leave to help you as much as you bid me.”

“Not for the rest of today,” Obi-Wan said. “Will you return tomorrow?”

“Nothing would please me more,” she said. She rose to her feet, slightly unsteady. “I will relay your instructions and report the progress of the cleansing to you tomorrow. Is breakfast too early?”

“Perhaps an hour or so afterwards,” Obi-Wan suggested. She nodded in acknowledgement and left him there with Artoo and with his thoughts.

He considered going through the data slips by himself first, before Anakin got back, but decided against it. If he knew what they contained, then he might be tempted to shield Anakin from the worst of what Darth Vader had done. That could not be an option. They had to face down this... temptation of Anakin's, this doom. The other Anakin had had dreams about Senator Amidala's death. That's what the message he'd left for Obi-Wan had said. Yet he hadn't been able to save her, despite his desperation. He'd dreamed truly of his mother's danger as well, and had been equally unable to save her.

Which meant that his dreams in this time, his dreams about Obi-Wan's death, were likely to come true as well. And if that was so – if Obi-Wan was destined to die here – then he had to prepare Anakin. He had to... _somehow_ , he must teach Anakin not to fear the loss of those he cared about.

He had to, because Obi-Wan would not allow his death to cause the creation of a Sith Lord and risk the destruction of this New Republic. It felt ridiculous and dramatic, to act as though Obi-Wan dying could possibly cause anything so catastrophic, but Anakin's dreams implied otherwise.

Nothing was more important than keeping Anakin from embracing the dark side of the Force. Whatever else Obi-Wan might have learned in this future was a candle next to this great truth.

Anakin must not fall.


	46. The Streets of Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia argues with Anakin and leads him to discover more about the New Republic.

Leia stayed quiet most of the meal, though she watched everything. She felt the falseness of Anakin's smiles and touches like a cold mist against her skin – it had to be worse for Luke. Anakin kept bringing Luke into the conversation, feigning a closeness between them as father and son. Leia shivered slightly, glad to be left out of it. Han, sitting next to her, knocked his knee against hers and gave her a reassuring smile. She leaned her shoulder against his. For all his bluster, he was always there when she needed him, and that was a quality that was priceless on any world.

She did want to talk more to him about the things from his childhood that he hadn't remembered until recently, but she could admit to herself that she'd been too hard on him. Vader being here, like this – it had thrown all of them off-balance. Not just once, but over and over again. Every time she thought she had something about him figured out, it would all change again. He'd be kind when she expected cruelty but then harsh when she thought he'd be gentle. It was a blessing that he hadn't raised her; she couldn't imagine thriving in such an environment. Her own parents had been supportive and kind and, above all, _consistent_. If she wanted to do something, her father or mother would sit and talk it through with her, helping her make decisions but never simply shooting down her dreams. Every moment she spent with Anakin made her appreciation of her own childhood grow.

After the meal ended, the conversation continued for a little while, and then Anakin thanked Dex quietly and said that he needed to get back to Obi-Wan.

“I've been wondering,” Luke said to Dex. “If I could stay and talk to you some more.”

“Of course,” Dex said. “We never got around to your plans for the new Jedi, did we? Yes, you _should_ stay, Luke. I'd love to hear some details.”

“Threepio can keep you company,” Anakin suggested. She could feel a tightness coiled up inside him, like a spring or a... or a serpent waiting for a chance to strike.

“I would be... pleased, Master Luke,” Threepio said. He'd started speaking almost before Anakin had closed his mouth. Leia frowned slightly and nudged Han.

Han looked at her, startled, and then ventured, “I'd like to stay, too. It's been... great... to hear stories about the good days of the Old Republic, but I had some business I'd love to talk to you about if you have the time.”

“When Lylaan told me that we had a genuine Skywalker, I had her clear the rest of my day,” Dex said. Then he added, to Anakin, “It's a shame you have to leave so soon! Seeing you has been quite the breath of fresh air.”

“I feel the same way,” Anakin said. “But Obi-Wan needs to talk to me. You know, Jedi stuff.”

“And Anakin'll need someone to take him back to the new Senate building,” Leia said. “He's only been there once. But thank you for being willing to talk to us, Dex. Oh, and I hope that you will keep Anakin and Obi-Wan's miraculous return private, for now? The New Republic wants to make a big deal out of them and that's harder to do if everyone already knows they're here.” Rumors would add potential interest in their eventual appearance at the anniversary ceremony, but casual confirmation risked making Minister Mothma's announcement seem like nothing special.

Dex glanced over at Anakin, who shrugged and smiled. Dex nodded.

“My pleasure, Senator Organa. Any friend of Anakin's is a friend of mine,” he said pleasantly. He turned and grinned at Luke, clapping him on the shoulder. “And a child of his, even more so! Come and sit, Luke. Take pity on an elder's frail bones.” Luke inclined his head graciously and followed Dex.

Lylaan pulled out the lightsabers from a pouch on her belt. She frowned at them, clearly not remembering which one belonged to which Jedi, and offered both to Anakin. He smiled warmly at her and took his without needing to look down at it.

Leia and Anakin went up the stair together with Lylaan, who opened the holding box and plucked out Leia's blaster. As Leia donned her cloak and put away her weapon, Lylaan said to Anakin, “It really is an honor to meet you. Dex doesn't laugh like that very often.”

“I promise his laugh will get even louder when he and Obi-Wan get to talking,” Anakin said, with a smile that Leia hated to admit was charming. “I'll see you both again soon.”

Leia followed Anakin out the door after saying her own goodbyes to Lylaan. Once they were outside, Leia said, “I was thinking we could walk part of the way back to the Senate. You might enjoy seeing a bit of what the city looks like these days.”

“Han and Luke?”

“Luke will know that the _Falcon_ is still here,” she said. Anakin nodded thoughtfully.

“Good,” he said. “I'm glad he's learned that much. You, on the other hand. You definitely could use a lot more training.”

Leia set out in the direction of the Senate, Anakin a step behind her. She tried to look at lower Coruscant the way that Anakin must be looking at it – evaluating the changes and, if she'd learned anything about him, finding it wanting. He hadn't been here during the years of the Empire. He didn't know that the streets down here were cleaner than they'd been in years. When _she_ looked around Coruscant, she felt pride over how far the capital had come in only a year. Did Anakin see any of that at all, or did he only see the places where buildings had crumbled from neglect and hadn't been rebuilt yet?

“I'm not sure I want any training,” she admitted after they'd been walking for a while. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I'm no Jedi.”

He shrugged, easily, and said, “More power will come to you, no matter what you do, and you should learn how to use it. You don't need formal training, if you really object that much to it, but it's harder to control what you do with the Force if you don't understand the basics.”

It made sense, but she still bristled to hear him say it. Darth Vader lecturing anyone about the responsible use of power was... was a mockery. She stopped in the street and turned to face him.

“Are you using Threepio to spy on Luke?” She put her hands firmly on her hips and raised her chin.

Anakin glanced up and down the street before he said, “I wouldn't call it spying.” He shrugged. “It's a precaution to make sure Luke doesn't say anything he shouldn't. He knows Threepio will tell me what he says to Dex, so that means he'll be careful with his words. When you think about it, it's really the opposite of spying.”

“You don't trust him at all,” she said. “Why pretend to care about him in front of Dex? Do you have any idea how cruel that was?”

“If you want me to apologize to Luke the next time I see him, I will,” Anakin said. “Of course, I know it hurt him; I could feel that much. But it'll help him in the long run.”

“I don't understand.”

Anakin heaved out a sigh, as if she were intentionally missing his point. “What do you think would have happened if I hadn't been enthusiastic about Luke? Do you think Dex would still be so eager to help him if I'd been honest? I know it's hard on Luke that I can't... can't look at him and see what he wants me to see. But that doesn't mean I can't pretend it, if that's what makes things easier for everyone.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I can, on occasion, do the right thing,” Anakin said wryly. “Even if I don't have the right feelings.”

“You are the strangest man I have ever met,” Leia said. “And the most confusing.”

She sat down on one of the benches lining the street and stared up at Anakin. He was so young, she thought, not for the first time. It didn't seem entirely fair that Vader had once been this young. He'd always seemed to be an unchanging specter of doom and destruction. And yet all along, on the inside, he'd been this... this volatile _firestorm_ , all ups and downs with nothing in-between.

“I don't try to be confusing,” Anakin said.

“Do you think you reacted this way when... when my mother told you she was pregnant?”

Anakin laughed, shaking his head. “Probably not,” he said. “Not as long as the pregnancy made Padmé happy.”

“She's the only reason you want to go back, isn't she?” Leia was sure of his answer. “For Obi-Wan, it's about the Jedi and the Republic but, for you, it's about her.”

“It _is_ difficult to imagine living my life without her,” he admitted, softly. “Any universe without Padmé is a cold and empty one.”

Leia looked down, remembering those horrible months of Han being lost to her and the hollow ache in her chest when she'd seen her planet destroyed and her family killed. It was hard to admit, even to herself, that she could understand how Anakin felt. But she never would have committed his crimes, she reminded herself. They weren't that much alike, in the end.

“But she's not the only reason,” he added. She glanced up again, meeting his steady gaze. “I know what you think of me. And... I know that I deserve it. That he deserved it. But I do care about the other people I left behind, Leia. I can get frustrated with the Jedi Council, but I don't wish them dead. And this future of yours is so _barren_. It's hard for me understand your attachment to it.”

“It's the only universe I've ever known,” Leia said. “Anakin... you can't just reverse time and undo your mistakes. How can you be sure that you won't make things worse?”

“How can it be any worse than this?” Anakin gestured widely, as if to encompass the entire galaxy.

“Things can always get worse,” she said. “Here, at least, Emperor Palpatine is dead.”

“And Darth Vader.” Anakin's mouth quirked into a half-smile. “The Emperor's 'attack dog'. He's dead, too.”

“It's no surprise people would be relieved that he's gone.”

“You're right, it's not,” Anakin agreed quietly. He glanced up the street again and then lowered his voice even more. “But that's another reason I want to go back – I want to stop that from ever happening. Stop myself from ever becoming _him_. Erase that version of myself from the galaxy entirely.”

Leia nodded slightly. When Anakin had first spoken like this, it had only made her more angry at him, but she'd had some time to think since then. She _could_ understand his reasoning, even if she didn't want him to go through with his plan. She sighed and glanced up at the sky -- the day was pressing on. She hopped up from her seat and continued their walk.

“It must have been as a terrible shock to find out what you'd become. I know I was surprised to find out that you were considered a hero back then,” she said. They were passing out of the warehouse district where Dex's office was located and heading into a commercial area – there were more people on the street now, and she could see vendor-stations a little further ahead, selling food and trinkets. “It's so different from the way I'm used to thinking of you.”

“Being a hero is certainly a lot more enjoyable than being the villain,” Anakin said. “I didn't realize how wonderful my life was back in my own time until I ended up here. It's worse than any nightmare I could have possibly imagined.”

There was a commotion from one of the side streets – not just noise, but a press of excited emotion. She was getting better at picking that out. Anakin was right, damn him. She was getting stronger in the Force and she was going to have to deal with it.

“What's going on over there?” Anakin asked. Leia glanced down the street and caught sight of a sign. She groaned softly.

“It's a protest.”

“What are they protesting?” But he was already moving in that direction before he'd finished the question. Leia had to break into a trot to keep up with him. There was a larger boulevard at the other end of the street, and it was filled with people who were listening to a woman who was standing on a chair to give her height over the crowd. She was using an amplifier, but it was a cheap one, so they couldn't hear what she was saying until they got a little closer. Once Leia could make the words out, she pulled her hood a little more tightly around her face. She'd been right.

It was a rally against the New Republic.

Anakin seemed fascinated. He'd stopped at the edge of the street, leaning against the building, his gaze fixed on the speaker.

“--they give us?” Her voice was deep and passionate. She was human, with brown skin and a mass of black curls that cascaded around her shoulders. Her clothing – a light blue bodice over a darker blue shirt and trousers – was plain but sturdy and well-fitted. A merchant, perhaps? “They have no grounds to _enforce_ it! To bind us to this new confederacy of planets.”

“They say it will bring peace.” The new voice came from the crowd, though it took a moment for Leia to spot the Mon Calamari who was speaking. “They say that we need it.”

“Friend Tu-thak tells us that the New Republic claims they will bring peace. I tell you they say this because they long for the power and control this government will give them,” the speaker said firmly. “I say that it is time for Coruscant to stand on its own. We need to learn to speak for ourselves first before we host anything like a galactic republic again.”

“Do you plan to ask for all the planets to withdraw or just Coruscant?” Anakin stepped forward as he asked the question, his voice carrying easily. Leia tried to pull him back, but the crowd had already closed behind him and she couldn't reach him. At least his hood was still over his head, hiding his face from most people.

“Is this your first rally, my friend?” The speaker's voice was warm. “I welcome your question. And your presence. Might I know your name, friend?”

Leia held her breath.

“I'm Annie,” Anakin said, inclining his head. Leia exhaled in relief. “Annie Naberrie. I just arrived the other day. And your name, my lady?”

“I claim no titles, Annie,” she said. “I am but a humble seller of grains to this great planet. My name is Mian Holn, but you are welcome to call me Mian or Friend Mian, if that suits you. To answer your question, I travel and speak on many worlds of the value of independence, though I was born here on Coruscant. Your name... it is of Naboo?”

“You _are_ well-traveled,” Anakin said. “What form of government are you proposing to replace the Galactic Republic?”

“I believe that not every planet is served best by the same rules,” Mian said. “We need flexibility to survive now that the Empire has fallen. The New Senate would just take us backwards in time, to the same conditions that created the Empire in the first place!”

“Too many voices make it hard for anything to get done quickly,” Anakin said. “And that can mean people are left to fend for themselves while they wait for the government to react, potentially leading people to make choices out of desperation, not wisdom. It also leaves openings for... dangerous people to take advantage.”

“You _do_ understand,” she said. “That is one of my primary concerns.” She crouched down to reach into a box that was on the chair next to her, pulling out a data slip. She handed it to a man standing at the front of the crowd, and he passed it backwards to someone new, and back and back until it was in Anakin's hands. “Please, friend, that contains some past discussions as well as future rally times and locations. I would be grateful if you would consider coming to more rallies.”

“I look forward to reading this, Friend Mian,” Anakin said, pocketing the data slip. “Thank you for being so kind to a stranger.”

“A new friend of planetary independence always deserves a warm welcome, Friend Annie,” Mian said. “As our ranks grow, so does our power to influence this planet to break free of the New Republic and stand on its own!” She was speaking to the crowd again now, not just Anakin. Leia took the opportunity to squeeze forward into the mass of people and yank on Anakin's elbow. He was still staring at Mian.

“We should go,” Leia whispered in his ear. “If they see who I am, things might get uncomfortable.”

He let her tug him back into the side street without resistance. Soon they were on their way again, Anakin in a thoughtful silence that left Leia feeling a touch anxious. After a few minutes, they came to one of the public turbolifts and Leia suggested they take it up to the rooftop waiting zone for aircabs. Anakin nodded absently and followed her. Every now and then, he would reach down and pat his pocket, as if he were reassuring himself that the anti-Republic data slip he'd gotten from 'friend Mian' was still safely in place.

Planetary independence... that phrase was tickling something in the back of Leia's mind, as well as the way Mian had addressed people. She'd heard of them, a loose group led by a dozen or so charismatic speakers. Planetary Independence was one of several dissident groups, all of which had different reasons for speaking up against the government. She'd never paid them much attention but she would need to look them up again later today – she couldn't ignore anything that Anakin found so intriguing.

After they landed on the Senate building, Anakin headed towards the garden without hesitation. Leia hurried to keep pace with him. “You can sense Obi-Wan's presence?” she guessed.

“Yes, though it was easier when he was properly connected to the Force,” Anakin said. “Can you sense Luke?”

“Only if we're close or if Luke is trying to reach me,” Leia said. “I can't do it very well on my own.”

“You should work on that,” he said. “It comes in handy.”

She resisted the urge to make at a face at his back. She wasn't going to let him make her act that childishly.

Obi-Wan was sitting in the middle of the main clearing, hands resting on his knees. He smiled when he saw Anakin, patted Artoo on the side fondly, and then said, “Here he is. You can stop complaining now, you bucket of rust.”

“Master, are you making fun of Artoo again? You know his feelings are fragile.” Anakin reached a hand down to Obi-Wan and helped him up off the ground.

“I wouldn't dream of doing any such thing,” Obi-Wan said, grabbing his cloak and draping it around his shoulders. “So, I'm sure you're dying to say it.”

“Me? What could I possibly need to say to you?” Anakin asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. He backed a step away from Obi-Wan. “I'm sure there are no important lessons that you could ever forgotten. Being the perfect Jedi and all.”

“Just hand it over it, then,” Obi-Wan said, holding out his hand.

“I don't know what you mean,” Anakin said, skipping backwards another step and holding his empty hands out to the side. “Are you suggesting I have something that belongs to you?”

“Anakin.”

“Now, let's see. How _does_ that lecture go?” Anakin grinned. “Oh, right, yes. This weapon is your life, Anakin. Never lose it. Never leave it behind. Never break it. A Jedi must always-”

Anakin was laughing by the time Obi-Wan tackled him. He didn't resist at all as Obi-Wan started going through his pockets and pouches, eventually pulling out a lightsaber and clipping it onto his own belt. “I swear, Anakin...”

“What?” Anakin challenged. He had his ungloved hand on Obi-Wan's waist comfortably, not trying to push him off at all. Leia blinked. _Very_ comfortably. And Obi-Wan didn't seem in a hurry to move either.

Well, they are partners, her mind argued. Jedi partners. Not... not that kind of partners.

And Anakin was married. He'd spent half his time here talking about how much he adored Padmé and how he longed to get back to her. Leia had to be reading this wrong, misinterpreting what that kind of touching meant for them. It was... it was just playful roughhousing. That was all.

“We should get back inside,” Leia suggested. “Today's a gardening day. This place is going to start filling up with workers soon.”

Obi-Wan looked up at her, his smile fading suddenly. He'd forgotten she was there – or maybe he'd never seen her at all. Had he been so focused on Anakin that he hadn't even _noticed_ her? Leia added that troubling thought to the rest of the list.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said. He stood up abruptly, and then started wiping grass off of his cloak. Anakin stayed on the ground a moment longer, staring up at Obi-Wan with a look that Leia couldn't categorize properly, and then he got easily to his feet.

Leia watched them leave the clearing, biting at her lip a little.

She needed to talk to Luke about this.


	47. Full Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan talk about the past and the future.

Anakin rubbed his hand over Artoo's dome comfortingly. It was good that Artoo wasn't mad at him anymore. With droids, things like that were easy. Anakin could just find out what was wrong and fix it, whether that meant an involved repair job or, as in Artoo's case, simply listening to the droid vent his frustrations over the other Anakin's decisions. 

People, unfortunately, were not as straight-forward.

“I'd appreciate it if the two of you wouldn't leave the Senate building without letting me know,” Leia said, as they reached the room he and Obi-Wan were sharing. Mostly to Obi-Wan, Anakin noticed.

“We're a secret,” Anakin told Obi-Wan. “Until Mothma gets to parade us around publicly, at least.”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan's tone held a hint of rueful amusement. “Politics.”

“Would you be willing to stay here?” Leia pressed. “Please.”

“I defer to your judgement,” Obi-Wan said. “This is your world, not ours, after all.”

“And, now, Obi-Wan and I need to consult about important Jedi business,” Anakin said, opening the door to their room. “I'm sure we'll see you later.” 

Anakin let Artoo in first and then pulled Obi-Wan inside quickly before Leia could distract them with another conversation. 

“I have been missing you for _hours_ ,” Anakin said, when the door was finally closed and he'd double-checked that his security precautions were still in place. He pushed Obi-Wan against the wall next to the door, darting forward with a quick kiss and then pulling away again, studying Obi-Wan carefully.

A smile touched Obi-Wan's mouth and his presence in the Force was warmly glowing to Anakin's senses, welcoming his touch. Good. It didn't seem as though their time separated had changed Obi-Wan's mind about anything. 

“Did the meeting with Dex go well?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Better than expected, actually, but let's talk about that later,” Anakin suggested. He pressed his mouth against Obi-Wan's jawline, strong but softened slightly by his beard. Anakin closed his eyes briefly and breathed in Obi-Wan's faint scent – even before he'd realized that he could have _this_ with Obi-Wan, too, he'd always longed for more closeness.

“Should we really do this with Artoo in the room?” Obi-Wan asked, his hands tight on Anakin's waist. 

“He doesn't care,” Anakin said. “It's the same to him as if we were having a meal in front of him – they're both just messy biological processes that he isn't involved in.” Anakin glanced over. “See, he's not even paying attention – he's interfacing with the Senate computers.” 

Obi-Wan turned to look at Artoo, narrowing his eyes, and then asked, “Not that I'm eager for _more_ company, but where's Threepio?” 

“I left him behind with Luke and Han as insurance,” Anakin said. “I'll explain later. But first...” When he leaned down for another kiss, Obi-Wan was still slightly tense, so Anakin relented. “Artoo, can you do your work in the 'fresher chamber? Obi-Wan doesn't like an audience.” 

Artoo whirled his dome a bit, main light flashing expressively, then he beeped an acknowledgement and detached himself from the room's systems and trundled over to the other door. Once Artoo was out of the room, Obi-Wan relaxed a bit against the wall, his gaze meeting Anakin's as he spoke. “Speaking of audiences, I almost kissed you in the garden just now. That would have led to some awkward questions from your daughter, no doubt.” 

“I don't care what she thinks.” 

“Are you certain about that, Anakin?” 

“I don't _want_ to care what she thinks,” Anakin corrected. “Master, there are so many things we need to talk about but... they can wait an hour.” 

“Or two?” Obi-Wan tugged at the front of Anakin's cloak, pulling him in for a lingering kiss. Anakin let himself fade into it, and sighed as the calm and peace that made up the core of Obi-Wan seeped into Anakin. His hands were steady and firm on the fastenings of Obi-Wan's clothing, uncovering him layer by layer, as Obi-Wan did the same to him. Anakin reached out with the Force to nudge the blinds on the windows the slightest bit open, allowing a hint of sunlight to filter in while still shielding them from view. Obi-Wan laughed. “If you were still my Padawan, that would have gotten you a lecture-” 

“-on the misuse of the Force, I know,” Anakin said. He spanned Obi-Wan's shoulders with his hands, absently comparing the width to his own, and brushed his fingertips over the faint freckles. “Luckily, I am no longer your apprentice.” 

“A fact for which I am immeasurably grateful,” Obi-Wan said. “Not that that detail would help us much if any of the other Masters knew what was happening right now.” 

Then Obi-Wan's breath caught and Anakin could feel traces of grief threading into his mind. He was thinking of the ruined Temple, of the friends that this future had taken from them. 

“We _will_ see them again,” Anakin promised, clasping Obi-Wan's hand in both of his own. “We'll listen to one of Master Yoda's indecipherable lectures again. Master Vos will warn you that I'm leading you down the wrong path. And I'll even let Master Windu tell me I'm a disappointment to the Order and I won't yell at him for it this time.” 

“Oh, Anakin, do they frustrate you as much as all that?” Obi-Wan asked, and the pain was melting away, to be replaced with gentle humor. He cupped Anakin's face with his other hand, and leaned in for a deep kiss, pressing their bodies together. After he broke away again, he added, “I won't let them lecture you on _this_. I'm the one who deserves the lecture.”

“I'm the one who'll get kicked out of the Order,” Anakin said, then he shook his head before Obi-Wan could object. He pulled away and sat down on the nearest of the two narrow beds, looking across the room. “Sorry. I didn't mean to spoil the mood. It is true, though. Not just because of this but also because of... the other thing.”

“We _can_ mention her name,” Obi-Wan said, drawing Anakin's attention back. He sat down next to Anakin, crossing his legs under himself neatly. Even without his clothes, he managed to look composed and centered. “It's not as though either of us can avoid thinking about her, not with your children running around.”

“It doesn't make you uncomfortable?” 

“It does.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “But denying reality doesn't make it go away. Besides, she's your _wife_ and I'm... what am I, Anakin?” 

“My partner,” Anakin said, firmly. “And Padmé likes you. A lot, actually. She's always telling me to be easier on you and to be more honest. And you like her, despite all your fuss about her being a politician.” 

“And when we get back, what happens?” 

“I'll tell her about all this and see what she says,” Anakin said. 

“You do plan on telling her, then?”

“Of course,” Anakin said, though he realized a moment later that Obi-Wan had no reason to believe that of him. “As soon as I'm alone with her again.”

“That's good to hear,” Obi-Wan said. “If you didn't tell her, I'd be likely to confess everything the moment I saw her face again. You're right, Anakin. I _do_ like Padmé. I don't relish the thought of hurting her. Though it's too late for that, I expect.” 

“She already knows how much you matter to me, Obi-Wan. I'll explain that we got caught up in our emotions and she'll tell me...” He hesitated. He didn't truly know how Padmé might react to such a confession. He spun the situation around in his mind, trying to imagine how it might feel with the roles reversed, if Padmé had come to him professing an indiscretion with someone she cared about, perhaps even Obi-Wan. He suspected his own reaction would be... less than calm. But while Padmé could be passionate and stubborn at times, she was also thoughtful, patient, and extremely diplomatic. “She would want time to think about it before she said anything rash. But if anyone can understand this temptation, it's Padmé.”

“Are you so irresistible, then?” Obi-Wan asked, reaching forward and tweaking Anakin's nose, startling a yelp out of him. 

“Master!” Anakin swiped at Obi-Wan's hand and captured it, pulling it away from his face. He tried to settle himself, taking a slow breath and leveling a warning look at Obi-Wan. “That's not... are you trying to talk us out of this?” 

“That _would_ be the wisest course of action, and certainly the kindest,” Obi-Wan said. He turned his hand over in Anakin's, stroking the center of Anakin's palm. “But, no. This... this blasted future is so empty without the guidance of the Force. Everything is different than it should be. Except for you, Anakin. No matter what this place tries to tell me about your future, all I can see is... is my dearest friend. And in the absence of the Force, I must rely on the one person I know I can trust with my life.” 

“Oh. Thank you,” Anakin mumbled, his cheeks warm. 

“Even if he has been lying to me for the past few years,” Obi-Wan added, but there was too much fondness in his voice for Anakin to take the rebuke seriously. He leaned forward for a brief kiss. But the moment was gone, he suspected, for the sexual interlude he'd been hoping to have with Obi-Wan – they'd spoken of too many serious topics and Anakin's own inner heat had been smothered by the conversation. Still, he felt no great need for either of them to dressed again either. 

He leaned back and urged Obi-Wan to lie onto of him, stroking yielding skin over firm muscle. Obi-Wan had more hair over his body than Anakin did, though still not much. It was pleasant enough to rub up against. Anakin wrapped his leg around Obi-Wan's back, reaching down to see if Obi-Wan felt more inclined right now than Anakin. Obi-Wan's cock was partially hard but there was no urgency in him either, so Anakin merely brushed it lightly with his hand before moving on to touch other parts of Obi-Wan's body. 

“Do you want to hear something a bit odd?” Obi-Wan asked, his fingers idly mapping out the details of Anakin's chest. “Slightly worrisome, perhaps.” 

Anakin stilled in his exploration. “Yes?” 

“I slept for hours last night,” Obi-Wan said, his tone forcibly light. “And I had a nap earlier today. Yet I find that I'm still tired.” 

“Maybe you have some kind of mild viral infection,” Anakin said. Ordinary sickness wasn't something either of them had much experience with, after all. A Jedi's connection to the Force gave them some protection against the everyday ailments that bothered the rest of the galaxy. Obi-Wan didn't have that protection right now. “We could get you checked out by a med-droid while we're here.” But Anakin didn't think they'd find the answer here. _Home_ – that's what his heart was telling him. They needed to get Obi-Wan home. 

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing,” Obi-Wan said. “Simply my body trying to adjust to no longer having the Force to give it additional strength. But... I wanted you to know. In case I'm wrong and it is important.” 

“You, wrong? I'm sure that's impossible,” Anakin said as carelessly as he could manage. He smoothed his hands down Obi-Wan's back. “Did you want to talk to Artoo some more about our missing time?” 

“Ah!” Obi-Wan sat up and leaned over the side of the bed, groping for his fallen clothes. Anakin wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan's bare waist to brace him, enjoying both the contact and the view. Obi-Wan came up again waving his belt pouch in one hand. “I was able to convince the Minister to give us some historical data to supplement what Artoo and Threepio will be able to tell us. Her aide will be delivering more in the morning.” 

Obi-Wan dumped out the contents of his pouch – several data slips that they'd need a console or Artoo to access, and also a portable holovid player. He picked up the player and handed it to Anakin. 

“I'm not sure how much information is here,” Obi-Wan said, shoveling the data slips back into his pouch and placing it on the small nightstand in between the two beds. Anakin eyed the nightstand thoughtfully. “I wanted to wait for you before I went through any of it. Though I suspect much of it is about this Jedi Purge of theirs. The aide seemed very well briefed on the topic.” 

Obi-Wan huffed at Anakin indignantly when Anakin shooed him off the bed, but then helped readily enough once he realized what it was that Anakin wanted, though he _did_ insist on putting his underclothes back on first. Together, they shifted the furniture around to more accommodating positions and, as they moved everything to where they needed it to be, Obi-Wan described the details of his conversations with Mothma and her aide, including some more alarming information about Darth Vader and the Empire. As they were finishing, Obi-Wan confided that Luke himself had reportedly been the one to kill the Emperor and Darth Vader. 

Anakin wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that particular bit of news. Hesitantly, he told Obi-Wan about his own conversation with Leia on the way to Dex's, that he'd been the one to take Luke's hand and kill Obi-Wan. 

“Yes, I'd suspected as much,” Obi-Wan said. The length of one bed had ended up against the wall, and the other was placed against it to double its width, with the nightstand at the low foot of the two beds and near the window. Obi-Wan sprawled out face-up across the two beds, apparently trying to take up every inch of space himself, and nearly succeeding. He did seem more easily tired than normal. “We may want to move this all back before you let any of the others into the room again.” 

“Or we just won't let them in here at all,” Anakin suggested. “You aren't surprised... about how you died?” 

“Darth Vader's threats in the Temple were fairly convincing, if vague,” Obi-Wan said, staring up at the ceiling. “And when I asked Luke if he was certain I'd died, he'd said it was in a lightsaber battle. It's all right, Anakin. As I said before, I have no intention of holding you responsible for crimes committed by your older counterpart.” 

Anakin wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so he went ahead and set up the holovid player on the nightstand and then crawled behind Obi-Wan on the bed, tugging and shifting to get Obi-Wan where he wanted him – laying back between Anakin's legs, slightly off-center. Anakin himself had refrained from putting any of his clothing back on – plenty of time for that when they needed to head back out into this strange new Coruscant – which meant that only one layer of cloth separated him from Obi-Wan. He pressed his bare leg against Obi-Wan's clothed one, hoping that Obi-Wan found it as reassuring as he did, and then used the Force to start the holovid. 

It was... it was Chancellor Palpatine, but his face was horribly wrinkled and aged, his frame slumped over as if he'd aged a century since the last time Anakin had seen him. His voice, too, sounded older, though it still had the echoes in it of the person Anakin remembered. “I received your message, Senator, and I must say that I'm disappointed,” Palpatine said, in grave tones. “The Jedi are the most dangerous threat that faces the Empire and must be rooted out at any cost. You, however, do not appear to be taking their rebellion seriously.” 

While the holorecorder hadn't been set to pick up the face of the person Palpatine was speaking to, the voice came through clearly, though the man spoke timidly. “Of course, Emperor, I understand that the Jedi have done a great disservice to you – to the Empire – but as I said before, I simply do not know where any might be hiding. My planet is no traitor stronghold. I promise you.” 

“Oh, I wish that I could believe you, dear Senator, but your nephew has already informed us otherwise. After some persuasion, he told us that a Jedi named Shav'lorn, as well as perhaps a score of others, are lurking in a cave system to the south of your capital city,” Palpatine said. The strangest thing wasn't that Palpatine looked old, Anakin decided. No, it was more than that. His forehead almost looked as though it had been split down the center and regrown in strips. 

“My-my neph- does he live?” The timid voice was choked with fear now. “Does my nephew live?” 

“Ah, I can see that you also need further encouragement to do your duty to the Empire. Very well, I will send you someone to help with your... deliberations.” Palpatine beckoned with one hand and another figure entered the range of the recorder. It was... it was just a soldier, garbed for battle, wearing a face-shielding helmet. Even in the bluish light of the holovid, his uniform glistened darkly, except on the flowing cape that was nearly long enough to sweep the floor. It was not a design Anakin seen before and the body of it almost looked sturdy enough to withstand the vacuum of space or the inside of a volcano, but it was still only a soldier. 

Yet Anakin felt dread prickling down his spine. 

The holorecorder was now picking up the faint sounds of a mechanical breather. 

“That will not be needed, Emperor!” The timid voice showed a hint of strength now, a strength founded in clear desperation. 

“But you said you were concerned about your nephew,” Palpatine said. “My friend here _was_ the last to see him. Was he well when you saw him, Lord Vader?”

“He yet lives.” 

Anakin stared at the small, flickering image of Darth Vader. That voice... that voice was his own and it had all the same damage that he'd heard on the message in the Temple, but it was lacking the anger he'd heard there. Without that edge of rage, Darth Vader sounded... empty. 

And if almost no one in this time knew that Darth Vader had once been Anakin, not even someone who had known him as well as Dex – did that mean that Darth Vader never took his helmet off? Anakin swallowed as he listened to the sounds of the breather, steadier than any human breathing could manage. He flexed his mechanical hand, his own lungs feeling painfully tight. 

“There, you see, nothing to be worried about,” Palpatine said, in a jovial manner that Anakin found sickeningly familiar. “My friend is even planning on bringing your nephew back to you. How many pieces did you want him in?” There was a ragged breath from the faceless Senator, and then Palpatine laughed. “Just a small joke, dear Senator. Do they not have a sense of humor on your planet?” 

“Of course, Emperor,” said the Senator's voice, obediently. “Haha. One piece, please. I'd like him in one piece. Haha.” 

“Do you think you can manage that, Lord Vader?” Palpatine asked cheerfully. 

“All shall be as you wish, my Master,” Vader said, tonelessly. 

“Now, Senator, I'm sure it'll be easier for no small bits of your charming young nephew to get lost in transit if you can only manage to find those Jedi yourself before Lord Vader arrives,” Palpatine said. “My friend tries to be gentle, but it really isn't in his nature, I'm afraid. And teenage boys are such fragile creatures.” Vader didn't speak a word, simply _stood_ there as if he truly did exist for nothing but Palpatine's command. 

“I'll do my best, Emperor. I promise, Emperor,” cringed the Senator's voice. 

“I look forward to Lord Vader's report on your lovely planet,” Palpatine said. “Have a wonderful evening, Senator.” The holorecording winked out, taking Palpatine and Darth Vader with it. 

“Luke and Leia are wrong,” Anakin said, stomach twisting. “Vader wasn't a monster. He was worse than that. He was _nothing_. He was Palpatine's...” Anakin blinked away his tears, not able to say the word that pushed at the back of his throat, and then he pressed the side of his face against Obi-Wan's hair, saying instead, “He was hollow, Master. He was completely hollow.” 

“Yes, I saw it, too,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up and stroking Anakin's cheek gently. “An Anakin Skywalker who doesn't talk back is not an Anakin that I'd like to know.” 

“He wasn't like that in the messages we heard before, at the Temple and from Artoo,” Anakin said. “There was some... some life in those, even if there was also hate and pain. But then to stand there and listen to what Palpatine planned and not even _object_...” He exhaled harshly, his own rough breathing a counterpoint against the memory of that mechanical breather. 

Anakin had thought, perhaps, that all of Vader's dark deeds had been done in a fury. The thought of being that consumed by anger had frightened him, but not half so much as the idea that Vader had committed atrocities but felt nothing at all. Rage and grief were things Anakin could understand. Emptiness was not. _Was_ Darth Vader empty or was he silently screaming behind that mask of his? 

Did it matter, if he still committed cold-blooded torture and murder anyway? 

“It's all right, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in soothing tones, his other hand running lightly up and down Anakin's thigh. His touch was a welcome reminder that Anakin was not facing this alone. “You'll never be him. We'll make sure of that.” 

“I don't understand that older version of you,” Anakin said. “He didn't hate me. I would have felt it if he did. Why didn't he hate me?” 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin realized, with a bit of surprise, that he hadn't told Obi-Wan about this morning's encounter with Obi-Wan's ghost. He did so now, doing his best to be as accurate and thorough as he could. 

“So, if we need more information, maybe it would be easiest to call _him_ here and ask?” Anakin suggested when he was finished. Obi-Wan shook his head. 

“Not yet. I think it's better to rely on someone not as likely to think the best of you, Anakin. We need to know the worst, if we're to stop anything like this from happening in your future.” 

“You think he'd lie to protect my feelings?” 

“Perhaps not intentionally,” Obi-Wan allowed. “But I'd rather find less biased sources to consult first.” 

“I need to tell you what truly happened when I was on Tatooine with Padmé,” Anakin said abruptly. He felt light-headed and near-faint saying the words. Padmé had understood, after a fashion. It was not likely that Obi-Wan would. Yet it demanded to be said. Anakin had seen the future – had seen himself as nothing but a... but a _shell_ to be ordered about at a monster's whim. If they were to truly do everything they could to make that future impossible, then Obi-Wan needed to know all of it, needed to know the worst of Anakin's past as well. 

Like a dam breaking loose, once he started speaking he found that he couldn't stop. He told Obi-Wan about the dreams getting worse, about his mother's last words, about the hate that had filled him up after she'd died, about killing every last one of the Tusken Raiders, including a crying infant. He talked about the journey back and even about his conversation with Padmé in the workshop, where he'd railed against the galaxy in general and Obi-Wan in particular. He didn't let himself focus on Obi-Wan's reactions, tried not to register them at all. 

When it was all out of him, he felt wrung dry and exhausted. Now, he opened himself back up to the Force, finding only enough energy left in him to ask, “Have I already fallen, Master? _Am_ I a Sith, in deed if not in word?” And, at last, “Have I lost you?” 

The silence that fell after Anakin was done was like sand rubbed raw into an open wound. But though Obi-Wan stayed quiet, he didn't move away from his position in Anakin's arms. There was a great turmoil in Obi-Wan's mind – Anakin could sense that much, even if his emotions were too chaotic to make out details – and part of Anakin wanted to yell and justify and explain. 

Yet raging wouldn't help now. He'd said everything he could. He'd placed himself into Obi-Wan's hands. It was up to Obi-Wan to decide what happened next. 

“Thank you, Anakin, for being honest with me.” That was all Obi-Wan said at first. 

Now that he was listening to the Force again, Anakin could feel the bubbles of horror and grief welling up inside Obi-Wan but, under that, he started to feel something strong and solid that felt like _determination_. Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. Anakin trembled with the effort of keeping everything inside his own skin, but he waited for Obi-Wan to continue. 

“If you're asking me to absolve you of killing those children...” Obi-Wan paused again and he touched Anakin's hand lightly. None of the conflict Anakin could feel in Obi-Wan's head came through in his words – his voice was a touch unsteady but remained kind. “I can't do that. Even if I wanted to, I haven't the right. When you take the life of an innocent person, there is no absolution.” Anakin forced down the words he wanted to use to excuse his actions and stayed silent for the rest of Obi-Wan's judgement. “What you did touched the dark side, Anakin, but only your future choices determine whether or not that darkness consumes you. I have to ask, did killing the Tuskens honestly make you feel better about your mother's death?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” came the immediate, viscous reply. But that wasn't really true. Not the way Obi-Wan meant it. And so, more softly, Anakin corrected himself, “No. No, it didn't. The anger and the grief didn't go away. Maybe they got covered up, for a little while, but it didn't make anything better.” 

“I don't have a great deal of experience in these matters,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Mostly my memories of dealing with Qui-Gon's death. But I'm not sure if anything can take away grief. It seems a thing beyond even the power of the Force.” 

“I'm not strong enough to handle it,” Anakin said, rubbing his thumb across Obi-Wan's hand. “The loss of her still aches.” 

“Anakin, I have failed you, haven't I?” There was no self-pity in Obi-Wan's tone, merely weariness. It would have stung, but for how Obi-Wan tugged up Anakin's hand and placed a gentle kiss across his knuckles. 

“I don't understand.” 

“You didn't _need_ to be strong enough on your own,” Obi-Wan said, slipping his fingers between Anakin's and clasping his hand tightly. “That is why the Jedi live communally. Why we act as a group. Because there is a strength in a community that doesn't exist in just one person on their own. But I've never taught you why you should believe in that. I should have. I didn't even think about it; I assumed that if you needed us, truly needed us, you would come to us and trust us to help you.” 

“I do trust you.” Anakin couldn't quite keep the hurt out of his voice. 

“You trusted Padmé and Palpatine more than you trusted me,” Obi-Wan said, but then he quickly added, “I'm not... I'm not blaming you, Anakin. That part of it was my fault. A Padawan should be able to trust their Master implicitly, even after the Padawan has become a Knight. Perhaps if Qui-Gon had been your Master as he should have been, that trust would have been built, but I failed you there, too.” 

Anakin frowned. 

“You blame yourself for his death,” Anakin said. He'd never considered the idea before and saying the words was a revelation. “Obi-Wan... why?” 

“I've never told you exactly how it happened,” Obi-Wan said, his voice hollow. “Well, I suppose I've never told anyone. But you deserve to know. I should have told you long ago.” 

“It's all right. You can tell me now.” 

“Well, let's see. You already know that I fought the Sith and killed him. It was... difficult. The Sith was very gifted with his lightsaber. He and Qui-Gon had managed to get ahead of me in a security corridor. I was cut off from them by a force field.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “If I'd made it through in time, Qui-Gon never would faced the Sith warrior by himself.” 

Anakin wanted to protest but, more than that, he didn't want to interrupt Obi-Wan when he was being so open. 

“I never spoke to anyone, not even Master Yoda, about how terrified I was that day. Seeing Qui-Gon standing alone, knowing it was my fault for not being fast enough to reach him. When the Sith stabbed him, it was like I was being stabbed. I could feel my bond with Qui-Gon fray and become fragile, and I knew he was dying. I was... I was in a rage when I fought the Sith. I wasn't calm or cool or rational. I _wanted_ him to die. No. I wanted to be the one who killed him.” Obi-Wan took a steadying breath. “My reputation is a lie, Anakin. I am not free of fear or anger or hatred. I have felt them all.” And then, quietly, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Anakin to hear, Obi-Wan added, “And I have felt love.” 

Anakin's hand tightened slightly, but he relaxed it immediately, just as something in his heart also calmed at Obi-Wan's confession - he'd always thought it was impossible for Obi-Wan to truly understand how Anakin had felt after his mother had died. Knowing that Obi-Wan had faced the same temptation and passed through it was... comforting. And now was not the time to push further. Obi-Wan was trusting him, confiding things to Anakin that he'd never told anyone else. Anakin refused to ruin this moment by pushing too hard. Instead, he said, “He wouldn't have blamed you.” 

“No, he wouldn't've,” Obi-Wan agreed. 

“It doesn't help, does it?” Anakin asked. 

“No, it doesn't.” 

Anakin had been thinking about something else, too, and now seemed as good a time as any to broach the topic. “ _Could_ I have trusted the other Jedi with my fears, Master?” 

“I'm not certain,” Obi-Wan said. “You should have been able to trust them but... ah. We never handled you the right way, I suspect. We said it was your fault for being too old, but now I rather think we were the ones who were too old, too set in our ways. This son and daughter of yours... they have a grace about them, Anakin. A wisdom that the Jedi lack in our time, despite all our knowledge.” 

“Do you think we should stop trying to go home?” Anakin couldn't keep the plaintiveness out of his voice. “Do you think their... their _grace_ should matter more than the Republic? More than the Jedi? More than Padmé's life?” 

Obi-Wan sighed. “I wish I had answers for you, Anakin, but all I can seem to find are more questions.” 

“I like answers better,” Anakin said, playing idly with Obi-Wan's hand. “And I miss home.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “So do I.” 

Obi-Wan's mind had settled now, the larger part of his mental conflict having subsided. There was a distance there that hadn't been there before, but it was not as wide as Anakin had feared it would be. The most important question, at least, had been answered. 

He hadn't lost Obi-Wan.


	48. The First And Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important issue is clarified for Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! So, I'm going to be traveling, starting tomorrow, and then not getting back for twelve days. This means no update next week and it's possible that the update the week after might be late. Just wanted to give a warning to anyone who has been following the new updates. Thanks!

Luke knew he didn't have the right to any expectations when it came to his father – he and Leia had been tossed into Anakin's face without any warning – but he couldn't keep his mind off Anakin's actions, even as he spoke with Dex about plans for the new Jedi Order. He'd kept trying to find ways to connect with Anakin, to establish some kind of meaningful relationship, but it was becoming clear that anything like that was going to take a lot more time than Luke had hoped. Just because Anakin hadn't fallen to the dark side didn't mean he was particularly trusting or open.

But at least the conversation with Dex went smoothly enough. He seemed happy to spend an hour or two talking over some ideas on reaching out to the general population. It would be a good idea to start small, Dex warned. Many enterprises failed because they expanded too quickly and spread themselves thinly.

“I wouldn't want the Jedi to fall again,” Dex said, touching his pinned sleeve absently. Luke wondered why he'd never gotten an artificial limb, but asking anything like that would have been much too personal. Anyway, it wasn't any of Luke's business. Not everyone wanted machinery grafted onto their bodies, after all. Luke flexed his own hand, which felt almost as much a part of his own body as his remaining flesh-and-blood hand did. Still, there was that _almost_ – something of a flutter at his wrist when he was using the Force, a sensation that he had to push past, ever so slightly.

It didn't seem to slow Anakin down much, but Anakin was... impressive.

Luke only wished that he could find some way to make the same kind of impact on Anakin that he'd made on Vader. There had to be some way to get it through Anakin's head that Luke just wanted to help him and get to know him. But everything Luke did just seemed to make Anakin trust him less. He glanced over at Threepio, who had been uncharacteristically silent during this trip. He'd almost say that the droid was _brooding_ over something.

When Han got around to the topic of doing some business with Dex, Luke took the opportunity to go to the side of the room where Threepio was quietly waiting.

“What's wrong, huh? Something's bothering you.” Luke tapped his knuckles lightly on Threepio's arm.

“Everything is terrible,” Threepio said, disconsolately. “And nothing can be done to fix any of it.”

“Are you sure it's as bad as all that?” Luke asked. “Maybe if you tell me what's wrong, we can work out a solution together.”

“Everything is wrong!” Threepio wailed, drawing a concerned glance from Dex. Luke smiled apologetically and motioned for him to go back to his conversation with Han. “I'm not meant for this kind of stress, Master Luke. A droid _cannot_ serve two masters. Not if they don't get along.”

“Ah. That's the problem.” Luke sighed. “Yeah, that's been worrying me too, actually.”

“And I think I may have made a mistake,” Threepio confessed, in a more normal tone. “But how could I have done any differently? Master Anakin means everything for the best, you know. He always does. And how could I lie to him? He's the kindest, most wonderful person in the galaxy.”

“Of course he is,” Luke said, privately adding, _if you're Obi-Wan or a droid_. “So, you told Anakin something you wish you hadn't?”

“I've been thinking about it ever since this morning,” Threepio said. “It's because I'm not good at stories. I don't tell them right, not at all. I think I gave him the impression of something quite terrible yesterday. And now everything is ruined and it's all my fault.”

“Why do you think everything's ruined?” Luke asked quietly, leaning in closer.

“Because he left me here to watch over you,” Threepio said, his own volume lowering to match Luke's. “He doesn't trust you. It's my fault.”

“No, it's not, Threepio,” Luke said. “I promise. Anakin just... didn't take to me; that's all. It's nothing you did.”

“I told the story _wrong_ ,” Threepio insisted. “I told it all wrong.”

“What story?” Luke asked.

“About your mother,” Threepio said. “I didn't tell it right. I just said what happened. But now... I believe he thinks _you're_ to blame. And that's not true.”

“To blame for what?”

Threepio looked around, examining the room closely. It didn't seem any different to Luke than it had a moment ago – the long dining table taken up with Dex and Han as they talked, the light above flickering slightly, the chilly underground air – but Threepio made an unsatisfied sound. He shook his head. “Not here. It's a secret. I've already said too much.”

No matter how Luke tried asking, Threepio wouldn't say any more than that while they were at Dex's. Luke drifted back in the direction of Han and Dex, keeping an eye on Threepio. He was twitching slightly now, and Luke thought about what he'd said, about not being able to serve two masters. Anakin bringing Threepio's memories back had seemed almost miraculous – Luke shouldn't be surprised that there might be a downside to it.

It was another couple of hours before Han and Dex wrapped up their business and they were all escorted back upstairs by Dex's Twi’lek friend and given back their weapons. Once they were back on the _Falcon_ , Han headed off to the engine room to talk to Chewie, while Luke herded Threepio into the lounge area. Luke sat down and demanded, “Okay, we're alone. What story about my mother did you tell Anakin?”

“Oh, dear,” Threepio said. “I was quite overtaken by the return of my memories, you must understand. It was... overwhelming to re-establish the link between the distant past and the present. I'm still recalibrating some of my internal systems. It was especially difficult when Master Anakin had first restored me. So, when he asked me how your mother died, I was honest, but I think it may still have been the wrong thing to say. He didn't understand.”

“You know how she died?” Luke asked.

“It was all terribly biological and mysterious,” Threepio said. “Even the med-droid didn't understand why she was dying. I should have told Master Anakin that, but I was in such a fluster.”

“Threepio, what did you tell him happened?”

“That Mistress Padmé... died giving birth to her children,” Threepio said.

“You told Anakin that?” Luke rested his head in his hands. So, when Anakin had dueled with him last night, when Anakin had looked at Luke and pulsed with anger and hate and had come within inches of genuinely trying to kill him...

Luke shook his head slightly. Rationally, Anakin's rage was unfounded. Being born wasn't the fault of the child, no matter what the consequences or circumstances. But if Luke had known yesterday that _this_ was why Anakin had been spitting fire at him... well, Luke might have done things very differently.

“But I left out so much! Master Kenobi was there with her and he didn't understand why she was dying either. Not even Master Yoda seemed to know,” Threepio said. “She was quite sad. Can humans die from unhappiness? It sounds like a design flaw, if you ask me.”

“I've never known it to kill anyone,” Luke said. “What else do you remember about that day? About my mother?”

“Not much,” Threepio said. “I stayed on the ship when Mistress Padmé went to speak to Master Anakin, and later when Master Kenobi did as well. I heard the fight from inside the ship but it was very confusing.”

“Wait, fight?” Luke straightened up. “What fight?”

“Well, it _sounded_ like a fight. Everyone was terribly upset at each other. No one ever really explained why,” Threepio said. “There were loud voices and the sound of lightsabers and then it faded. I went outside to find Mistress Padmé lying on the ground, and no one else in sight but Artoo. I brought her on board the ship we'd come in, while Artoo waited for Masters Anakin and Kenobi to come back.”

Threepio shook his head slowly.

“Master Anakin never did come back. Later, there would be Darth Vader, I suppose. But I never saw Master Anakin again. And it was my last day as myself. It was later that day, after the births, that my memory was wiped and I was given to Captain Antilles. But he blames you for it,” Threepio said, sounding depressed again. “He doesn't trust you. And it's all my fault. I didn't tell him the rest of the story.”

Luke patted Threepio's arm, trying to give him some comfort. “It's all right, Threepio. I'm glad you told me, at least. It helps.”

“I'd like to hope so, Master Luke,” Threepio said. “But I doubt it.”

“That's fine,” Luke said. “I'll hope enough for the both of us.”

Han passed through the room on the way to the cockpit, so Luke joined him, sitting down in the co-pilot seat and saying, “So, how am I supposed to convince Anakin to like me if he thinks I'm the reason the love of his life is dead?”

“Are we talking about your mom or about Obi-Wan?” Han asked, cautiously.

“My mother,” Luke said. “Threepio told Anakin that she died giving birth.”

“Oh, hell,” Han slouched in his chair and stared out the window for a moment. “That is...” He whistled through his teeth. “ _Hell_.”

“Yeah,” Luke agreed.

“Okay, you gotta let him work through the anger,” Han said. “He'll realize that it ain't your fault once he thinks it through, but I'm guessing he's not thinking right now.” Han reached over and grabbed Luke's wrist for a gentle squeeze. “You do realize it's _not_ your fault, right?”

“I know,” Luke said. “But it makes things harder for us. No wonder he thought he could save her by going back in time. If he thinks all he has to do is not get her pregnant... it must seem like the obvious choice.”

“Obvious usually isn't right, though,” Han said, letting go of Luke's wrist and leaning forward to flick the switches to start up the _Falcon_ for the hop back to the Senate. “We'll all talk it over later, get things figured out. You keep saying Obi-Wan is such a great guy. Well, _he_ should at least be able to figure out that it's not your fault.”

“Obi-Wan is... complicated,” Luke said, bracing himself slightly as the ship lifted off the ground. “More so than I'd realized.”

When they arrived at the Senate building, Luke could sense the bright flare of anger that was Leia, vibrating somewhere inside the building. He led Han along the corridors, following his sense of her, until they came to a room that was around the corner from the room that Mothma had given Obi-Wan and Anakin.

“What are you doing here?” Luke asked, as he let himself inside. “This is a guest room.”

“The Minister has asked me to make sure our guests stay in their room,” Leia said, each word as sharp as a knife, pacing the room. Luke sat down on the small couch on the left of the room. Han hovered in the doorway a moment, then slid just enough inside to shut the door behind him.

Leia went up the length of the room, all the way to the windows, and then turned around and marched back almost to the doorway. Luke wondered how long she'd been in here doing this – from the set of her shoulders, it seemed like she had no plans on stopping anytime soon.

He exchanged glances with Han, but remained quiet. Leia continued to pace furiously back and forth, and said, quite loudly, “ _Darth Vader_ thinks _I_ need to learn more control!”

Luke considered this for a moment, hands resting on his knees, and dryly translated, “Our father suggested you train in the ways of the Force?”

“Oh, I suppose you're going to agree with him.” Leia sat down next to Luke on the couch with a thump. “What does he know about it, anyway? He fell to the dark side! He betrayed the Jedi! He tortured Han just to get your attention! And _I'm_ the one who needs to learn control?”

“Okay, okay,” Han said, leaning against the wall. “Darth Vader did all that. But he's _not_ Darth Vader yet, right? I mean, he's an arrogant dick, don't get me wrong, but... he's not Darth Vader. At least, that's what you two keep telling me.”

“I wish I could punch him in his smug face,” Leia seethed, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “His condescending, know-it-all _face_. Ugh.” Luke patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. “I don't understand how Obi-Wan can like him so much.”

“Well, they've been friends for a long time,” Luke said. “And Anakin is a lot nicer to Obi-Wan than he is to us.”

“Ha!” Leia said. “That's another thing! They're weird. Do you think they're weird?”

“Right now, _anyone_ who can use the Force is coming across as pretty strange to me,” Han muttered. Luke suppressed a smile. Thank all the stars in the galaxy for Han.

“Weird how?” Luke asked Leia.

“They're... they're too close,” she said. “I know they're famous Jedi partners but... there's something else. They... I think they...” Her face scrunched up as she tried to find the right words.

It was tempting to let her fumble around until she either got to the point herself or decided to drop the issue, but they'd have to talk about this possibility eventually. Better to just confront it now. Luke rubbed her on the arm and commented lightly, “I think they might be sleeping together.”

If he'd been hoping his casual attitude would help Leia not take the idea as badly, it hadn't worked. She was up from the couch like a blaster burst, back to pacing around the room.

“But why would Obi-Wan do that?” she asked. She didn't wait for an answer. “I shouldn't even be surprised about Anakin. He's so... selfish! Such a hypocrite! He probably had a lover in every spaceport! But Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan Kenobi!”

“Obi-Wan has always spoken very highly of Anakin,” Luke said. “He took care to separate Anakin from Darth Vader when he talked about him to me. And I'm not talking about this younger Obi-Wan, I mean _Ben_. You never heard the way he praised my father, back before I knew the truth. And even afterwards, he said Anakin had been consumed by the dark side and become Vader. Ben almost acted like they were two different people who both happened to be my father.”

“So, he's in denial,” Leia said. “Great. Well, that means... if they are sleeping together-” She made a face. “-that means that we definitely need to get Anakin to want to stay here, not just Obi-Wan.”

“Even if they aren't, Obi-Wan wouldn't stay without Anakin,” Luke said. “There's no way he'd let Anakin go back alone to face the fall of the Republic.”

“I'm already bending over backwards to be nice to him,” Leia said. “This won't make it any easier. And why aren't you upset?”

“About Anakin and Obi-Wan? Well, we don't know for sure if it's true,” Luke said. “And if it is true, we have no idea how long it might have been going on. For all we know, they might have had a longer-term relationship than he had with our mother.”

“Anakin is a lot younger than Obi-Wan,” Han said, thoughtfully. “And he calls the guy 'Master' all the time which, for the record, is a little creepy. Even if it is supposed to be a Jedi thing.”

“General Kenobi never would have taken advantage of Anakin,” Leia said, stopping in front of Han so that she could wave a hand at him in outrage. “Never! He's an honorable man.”

“Who is possibly having sex with a married man,” Han said. “So, maybe not so honorable after all. I mean, it could be that his whole involvement with the Rebellion was a way of making up for screwing everything up with Anakin and his wife.”

“Padmé,” Luke and Leia corrected in unison.

“Right, sure,” Han said. “So, maybe Obi-Wan and Anakin get together and that messes things up with Padmé, but then she's pregnant from that desperate last night she'd had with Anakin before everything ended. And so Anakin leaves Obi-Wan to be with her again because of the babies but, naturally, she's still upset about the cheating and they're miserable together and... then the dark side happens? Maybe the Emperor is the person who told Padmé that Anakin and Obi-Wan were having sex, and when he sees that they're unhappy, it gives him an opening to seduce Anakin into darkness.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I didn't know the Emperor all that well, but from what I saw, he seemed more focused on murder than sex,” Luke said slowly.

“Han, I think you might be watching too many of those drama holos,” Leia added.

“It makes as much sense as any other theory,” Han said defensively. “Can you think of any actual evidence we have to disprove it? No, you can't. Because there isn't any.”

“Only because we don't know enough about what happened back then,” Leia protested.

“We could try asking Threepio or Artoo?” Luke suggested.

“If Threepio was going to mention it without prompting, then he would have told us the other night,” Leia said. “And if Anakin was cheating on his wife, he would probably have told his droids not to spill the secret.”

“And if we ask, then they might end up telling Anakin anyway,” Luke said. “If we want him to know, we might as well just ask him directly.”

“Oooh, no. I wouldn't recommend asking the guy if he's cheating on his wife,” Han said. “That conversation has no way of ending well. Either you're right, and you'll be miserable to know the truth, or you're wrong, and he'll be offended that you thought it was possible. Besides, I've heard the guy talk about love and he takes it pretty damn seriously.”

“Yeah, he does,” Leia said. “But how can you love someone that much and then sleep with someone else? I couldn't do it.”

“Thanks,” Han said. “Same here.”

“Yeah,” Leia said absently. “I know that.”

“Well, good,” Han said. “Anakin... he definitely loves your mom. I've heard the way he talks about her. If he is sleeping with Obi-Wan, maybe it's a... comrade in arms thing? Buddies scratching an itch. Or... friendship with a nudity bonus. It's not something I'd do but some people... every relationship is different.”

“I don't need to start thinking about Darth Vader _naked_ , thank you,” Leia said tightly. “Everything is bad enough already.”

“Have you noticed that the more frustrated you are with Anakin, the more likely you are to call him 'Darth Vader'?” Luke asked. “I mean, Han is right. He's not Darth Vader. In a lot of ways, he isn't our father either and, frankly, doesn't want to be. And even if he fell to the dark side again now, I don't think he could fall the same way that he did as Darth Vader all those years ago. He knows too much. I don't think we have to worry about the return of Vader.”

“Oh, I'm sure he could find a way to ruin everything,” Leia said. “It's what he does.”

“Anyone can feel the temptation of the dark side, Leia,” Luke said. “I've felt it myself, especially when I was afraid for the people I loved.”

Leia's expression softened.

“Oh, _Luke_.” Leia dropped down beside him on the couch again, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “You don't have to push away how much this hurts you, you know. It's just us here. You don't need to be strong for us.”

“Yeah, we're, uh, here for you, buddy,” Han said.

“I'm okay,” Luke said. “Or, at least, I know I'll be okay in the long run. I'm getting what I wanted – I've learned all kinds of new things about my parents. I always knew there was a chance that I wouldn't like what I found out.”

“I never wanted to know anything more about Vader,” Leia said. “But... I have liked hearing about our mother.”

“About our mother,” Luke said. “There's something I should tell you.”


	49. Into Thin Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin make some future plans.

Obi-Wan listened as Anakin fondly bickered with Artoo, hiding a smile against the pillow. It was a familiar sound, one that spoke to Obi-Wan of countless days in the field. Obi-Wan regretted many things about the war – especially now that he knew how futile it had truly been – but he couldn't regret the extra time it had given him and Anakin to work together as friends and grow as equals.

When Anakin came back to the bed, Artoo in tow, the three of them began to put together some of the information they'd gathered already. The first order of business was sorting out the remainder of the Hargoeth mission. While they worked, Obi-Wan did his best to ignore Anakin's continued state of undress. Right now, planning together as partners was more important than indulging in anything more physical.

Anakin scanned the written record, making a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. “What a frustrating species,” he muttered. “Here's where it splits off from what I remember – instead of coming here, the other Anakin says he found you on the cave floor, unconscious but not injured. The people of Hargoeth refused to explain their actions and, since you didn't want to press the point, we ended up leaving the planet. An addendum says that they fell to the Separatists a few weeks later. Not a hint of anything to explain what happened to us.”

“That was too much to hope for,” Obi-Wan said. “They said they had a way to protect themselves from the Separatists. Our other selves may have never understood what that meant, but it _must_ have something to do with us and our appearance in this time period. Artoo, can you find out Hargoeth's current status?”

Artoo connected back into the room's computers. While the droid searched the New Republic's database for mentions of Hargoeth, Obi-Wan and Anakin started scanning through the information in the data slips that Obi-Wan had received from Plajin. Most of it was just more of the same depressing news that they'd been hearing since they arrived. Lists of confirmed deaths, planets that had been pressed hard by the Empire, restrictive and often arbitrary rules enforced with an iron fist, and horror after horror that had the name 'Darth Vader' attached to it.

“I'm not sure how much more we can learn from all this,” Obi-Wan said, tossing his latest data slip onto the pile of ones they'd already examined. “The New Republic didn't have access to Palpatine's secret files – if he had any – and continuous recitations of atrocities gives us nothing new.” Except perhaps a headache. Not an affliction he'd suffered much before, but his current condition seemed to come with any number of drawbacks.

There was a series of beeps from Artoo.

“Artoo's found some information on Hargoeth,” Anakin said. He conferred briefly with Artoo, then turned back to Obi-Wan. “The Empire had a large contingent of soldiers permanently stationed on the planet and were personally visited by Palpatine four or five times. It looks like each time he left, more soldiers were moved there and taxes on the local population were increased. Sounds like he wasn't getting what he wanted from them and it was delicate enough that he wasn't willing to start killing people outright to get it.”

“So, we need to visit Hargoeth and find out what kept bringing him back.” Obi-Wan tapped one of the data slips against the edge of the bed as he thought. “Leia won't like it, since that's exactly where we were trying to go before, but it's the only place likely have answers to at least some of our questions. Perhaps if we invite her to come with us, she won't see it as breaking our word about staying, but understand that we're merely collecting information. And that we _do_ still plan on giving her a chance to make her arguments in favor of this future.”

“You should be the one to suggest it,” Anakin said. “If I do, she'll think it's part of an evil plot.”

“You really should make peace with your children, Anakin.” Obi-Wan laid a hand against Anakin's bare shoulder, his skin warm and smooth. “They're good people.” Artoo made a noise of agreement.

“I guess they are,” Anakin said, reluctantly. “I almost wish they weren't. Obi-Wan, I _can't_ choose them over Padmé, no matter what their virtues might be. I can't betray her.” He looked down at Obi-Wan's hand, his mouth lifting in a rueful smile. “Not like that, at least.” His words were soft, with an edge of bitterness, but when Obi-Wan moved his hand away, Anakin caught it in his own hand, the metal firm against Obi-Wan's fingers.

Protests sprung to Obi-Wan's tongue – he thought of telling Anakin that if he was feeling the sting of betraying his wife now, it would only deepen in time, or of telling Anakin that they needn't do anything else, that things could stop at one indiscretion – but the words died before they reached his mouth. He'd said earlier that he hadn't the heart to talk Anakin out of this and that was still the truth. Anything he might tell Anakin would ring false, because Anakin already knew his true feelings. Obi-Wan wondered if Padmé had gone through these same mental exercises – she would have known that a marriage would be a betrayal of Anakin's vows to the Order. Had she made the same kind of justifications to herself that Obi-Wan was making now?

Perhaps he would have the chance to ask her. If she would still be willing to speak to him at all. He certainly wouldn't blame her for wanting nothing to do with him.

“Being a bit nicer to them isn't a betrayal of Padmé,” Obi-Wan said instead. “I think she'd _prefer_ it if you were kind to her daughter and her son, regardless of what it cost to bring them into the universe. You know Padmé well enough to know that it's a price she would paid willingly.”

Anakin dropped his chin, lips pursing together as he fought some kind of internal battle.

“Maybe,” he said, after a time. “But not one I would have had her pay. Padmé's life means more to me than... more than my own. More than almost anything.” He glanced over at Obi-Wan with a shy smile. “So does yours. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. If he weren't so certain of that, then Anakin's nightmares about Obi-Wan dying wouldn't be nearly as concerning. “But none of our lives come with any guarantee of safety. If I do die... Anakin, can you promise you won't seek revenge in my name?”

“I'm not sure that I could keep a promise like that,” Anakin said. “I could try.”

“Then I suppose that will have to be enough.” _For now_ , Obi-Wan added silently. He would bring the subject up again with Anakin another day. Today had certainly already been filled with enough emotional turmoil for anyone's tastes. It was better, in any case, that Anakin was being honest about his potential limitations rather than making rash promises.

“Oh, something else interesting happened today,” Anakin said, after another brief silence. “This new Republic is not universally admired.”

“Is any government?” Obi-Wan asked rhetorically, but then he added, more seriously, “What happened?”

Anakin went over to his discarded clothes and sorted through them to find a data slip, which he flourished for Obi-Wan before giving it to Artoo to process. “It was a protest – some people who believe that it's too soon for another galactic republic, that the wounds from the Empire have to heal first. Their leader was arguing that planets should form their own individual governments instead of banding into a large body.”

“You're right; that _is_ interesting,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin leaned over to talk to Artoo for a moment, then said to Obi-Wan, “There's another meeting tomorrow night. A more private one, not a rally on the streets. If we're still on Coruscant by then, we might want to drop by.”

Obi-Wan hummed slightly as he thought it over, but ultimately he shook his head. “Not me, I shouldn't think. The Minister might take that as a slight against her government, and we want keep our options open. But you could go, and tell me what they say. Everything we've been learning has been filtered through people who are deeply invested in the New Republic. It won't hurt to hear from those who aren't.”

“I agree,” Anakin said. He patted Artoo slightly when the droid made a soft noise of protest. “Don't worry, Artoo. We're not saying that Luke and the others have been lying. Just that they're speaking from their own points of view. We can't rely only on their words.” Artoo made something of a mechanical sighing sound, but didn't argue.

“Artoo, you've been here all along and remembered everything the whole time – can you think of something we've missed?” Obi-Wan asked. He would ask something similar of Threepio, too, the next time he had the chance. “Anything important that we should know about the past – something that perhaps we wouldn't think about asking?”

Artoo rolled slightly away from them, dome twisting a bit as the question was processed.

Obi-Wan took advantage of the brief silence to organize the data slips and put them away, making sure to place the one containing the protest information into Anakin's personal belongings and not letting it get mixed in with the rest. Anakin, who tended towards laziness in between his bursts of energy, merely watched as Obi-Wan tidied.

There was a short whistle from Artoo.

“He'll keep thinking about it and let us know if something comes up,” Anakin reported. “More than two decades of potential information is a lot to process, even for a droid as smart as Artoo.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, dropping a hand briefly onto Artoo's dome as he went back to join Anakin. “We do appreciate your help.”

“And your loyalty,” Anakin added. “I know that it must have been difficult when we showed up out of nowhere, after years of being bound to someone else.” Artoo beeped a bit and Anakin nodded. “I'm glad you were looking out for them. Padmé would have been, too.”

Obi-Wan settled next to Anakin in the bed, letting himself soak in the warmth of Anakin's skin for a few moments. In a bit, he would insist that they needed to get up and find Leia, to speak with her about traveling to Hargoeth, but surely he could afford to take a moment to relax. Artoo and Anakin continued their conversation, but Obi-Wan allowed his mind to drift away from it. There was a certain unhealthy stubbornness in continuing to try to contact the Force even though he knew the attempt would fail, but Obi-Wan set himself to the task once again.

He closed his eyes and reached out with his thoughts. There was another version of his self here – if he could not touch the Force directly, perhaps he could find his own ghost. He fought the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. He could still feel _nothing_ outside the bounds of his own body. Not even the vaguest sense that the Force must still exist somewhere. Except, ah, the slightest hint that something more existed in the places where his skin brushed against Anakin's. Yet, it wasn't anything he could use – he could feel the crackle of Anakin's connection, but it remained, quite firmly, Anakin's connection alone.

How damnably frustrating.

Still, he reached out again, to try find a way out of the cage that his body had become – he went through all the various mental exercises that he'd learned from Master Yoda, then continued on to the further education he'd gotten from Qui-Gon and the other Masters who'd taught him. His headache lessened a bit, but he received no other reward for his efforts. With a sigh, he gave up and opened his eyes.

Anakin was looking down at him with concern, a gentle hand stroking through Obi-Wan's hair.

“Still nothing,” Obi-Wan reported, though Anakin had likely already been able to tell that much. “Well, should we try to locate your children?”

“There is one more potential source of information, Master,” Anakin said. “Your ghost. I didn't ask him many of the right questions. When we spoke last, I was still only thinking of leaving here as quickly as possible. Should I try to call him now?”

“You might want to get dressed first,” Obi-Wan suggested. Anakin shrugged.

“If you really want me to, I will,” he said. “It doesn't bother me, but if you think you might get jealous...”

“Over myself?”

“He is very attractive for an older gentleman,” Anakin said archly. He laughed when Obi-Wan lightly smacked him on the arm. “No? All right, then I won't bother.” Anakin's smile smoothed out, his eyes closing. “He's further away than he was the last time – not physically but mentally. But he can hear me. I just need to...” Anakin's brow furrowed in concentration. “I just need to _pull_.” Anakin's eyelids popped open. “There you are!”

Obi-Wan blinked and gave the room another look over. It was still just himself, Anakin, and Artoo, as far as he could see. “Where?”

“You can't see him?” Anakin asked. He turned his attention to the empty air next to Artoo. “Can you make it so that Obi-Wan can see you?” He listened for a moment, then nodded. “He says it's not something he has complete power over – he thinks your lack of a connection to the Force is why you can't see him. Artoo can't either.”

“This conversation is going to be somewhat awkward then,” Obi-Wan said. He stared at the patch of nothing that Anakin had been directing his conversation towards. “He can hear me?”

“Oh, yes,” Anakin said promptly. “Obi-Wan...” He trailed off for a moment. “You're right, that _would_ be less confusing.” He turned back to Obi-Wan. “He suggested that I call him 'Ben', at least for now. It's the name he's gone by for many years. He's used to it.”

“Ben?” Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “I've always liked that name.”

“I guess some things didn't change,” Anakin said. “Ben – you and I didn't talk about much the last time I saw you. I was planning on leaving as quickly as possible, so I didn't think we needed to know anything about this timeline. Plans have changed slightly.” He nodded in response to whatever it was that 'Ben' was telling him. Obi-Wan slipped out of the bed, shaking his head slightly when Anakin frowned at him. There would be little but frustration to be found in only being able to hear one side of a conversation.

He picked up his lightsaber, moving to the most open area of the room, and turned it on, twirling it experimentally. He didn't have the intuitive connection with the weapon that he should be feeling, but he could certainly still use it. As Anakin and Ben spoke, Obi-Wan went through the basic forms, focusing most of his concentration on his stance, though he kept some of his attention on the conversation to hear if Anakin sounded distressed at any point. There was still no sense of the Force – particularly frustrating, given that the literal embodiment of his Force-connection was in the room – but he found that his balance came back to him readily enough.

There were moves that he doubted he would be able to do without the Force – leaps and various acrobatic feats that were a normal part of a Jedi's toolbox – but he would still do well enough against a common pickpocket or pirate.

It sounded as though Anakin and Ben's conversation was winding down, so Obi-Wan turned off his weapon and set it back down on the nightstand. “All right, Anakin, tell me what you've learned, and I'll see if I can think of any additional questions to ask our friend.”

“He confirmed a lot of things that we both already knew,” Anakin said. “But Luke didn't kill me.”

“Oh, well, that's a bit of good news,” Obi-Wan said. “What did happen?”

Anakin glanced over at the empty air again. “I sacrificed myself to save Luke's life. I killed Palpatine.”

“So, he balanced the Force after all,” Obi-Wan said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “And redeemed himself for the mistakes he'd made in his life.”

Anakin shook his head slightly. “Can one sacrifice really make up for _years_ of making the wrong choices?” Ben must have said something to that, because Anakin tilted his head a bit to the side, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I'm glad Luke felt that way. I'm just not sure I agree. Darth Vader hurt a lot of people, Ben. Killed a lot of people. He was no better than a... he's no better than what Leia said about him. Even if he did make a heroic gesture in the end.”

Obi-Wan touched Anakin's arm gently, trying to be comforting, and changed the subject. “Does he know anything about Hargoeth and what happened there?”

“Nothing,” Anakin said, with a snort of frustration. “He does agree that it's a good idea to go there and talk to the people, but he doesn't remember the planet as anything special.”

“Well, then, I think our next step is talking to Leia.” Obi-Wan paused for a moment. “You'll want to put on clothes for that.”


	50. Planning and Practicalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia isn't thrilled about the change in plans, but she's going to make it work.

“I don't remember my father saying anything about you being so indecisive,” Leia said, hands on her hips as she glared at Obi-Wan and Anakin, who were sitting in the curved couch in the _Millennium Falcon_ 's main hold. Obi-Wan, at least, had a somewhat apologetic expression on his face, but Anakin just smiled a bit, in a faintly self-satisfied way that she itched to challenge him on, even though she knew it wouldn't do any good. At least he wasn't talking. “You said only the other day that you'd stay and hear me out for at least a week.”

When Obi-Wan and Anakin had arrived a few minutes ago, she'd known that it could only mean bad news. If they were determined to go, there wasn't really any way she could reasonably stop them. Despite her attempts at bluffing earlier, she wasn't willing to risk killing them in order to keep them here. But there _had_ to be a way to convince them to stay.

“We still plan to keep that promise, but I don't think this trip can wait,” Obi-Wan said. “Leia... if it's not possible for us to return home – or if there's a time limit that we're not aware of – we need to know that as quickly as possible.”

“What makes you think it might be impossible?” Luke asked. “You were pretty sure before that you could get back.”

“And before that, I was certain it had to be a vision from the Force,” Obi-Wan said wryly. “Anakin and I had a chance to look over the mission details from Hargoeth – that planet we were on before we came here – and there are some missing pieces that concern me. They said they had a way of protecting themselves, but then fell to the Separatists almost immediately after we left. If they had a shield or a weapon, why didn't they use it? If it was this time-travel that they meant, why use it on outsiders and not save themselves? That Anakin and I appeared here only after the Empire had fallen... it's worrisome. It needs to be investigated.”

“This planet's on the Outer Rim?” Han asked.

“I realize you might not want to be the one to take us there,” Obi-Wan said, turning his steady gaze to Han, who blinked. “You don't trust us, much as I have had a hard time trusting you. We are prepared to look for alternate transportation if needed.”

Han glanced over at Leia, who gave him an uncertain smile and half a shrug. It would be easier if Obi-Wan and Anakin were here on this ship, but she wouldn't try to talk Han into it.

Chewie, leaning against the doorframe, asked how far away the planet was from Coruscant.

“Artoo has the exact coordinates,” Obi-Wan said, turning his attention towards Chewie. “But I would say that it would take us approximately eighteen hours to arrive. It's a bumpy route – or it was. Perhaps a better course has been charted while we were away.”

“Well, you'd need to sleep in the cargo hold,” Han announced. He clapped his hands together decisively. “We don't have enough beds for you.”

“It's not a problem,” Anakin said. “We've slept in worse places.” Artoo beeped a short reply that made Anakin laugh. “Exactly. At least there's no sand or wind.”

“You promise this isn't a trick?” Leia asked Obi-Wan.

He looked at her for a moment, then he stood up and came over to stand in front of her, reaching out to take her hands into his. “Leia Organa, I swear, by the Force, that the reason Anakin and I want to go to Hargoeth is for information, not to abandon you or this future.” She held his gaze for a moment, trying to read the truth in it. He seemed honest enough, eyes wide and earnest. _Was_ he sleeping with Anakin? If he was willing to do that, could she trust him with anything else?

But there was nothing false in his face that she could see. She couldn't base her choices on a mere suspicion.

“Okay,” she said, slowly. “Okay. I believe you.”

“We can't leave right away,” Han said. “It'll have to be a couple of days from now. The Outer Rim, you said?”

Leia broke away from Obi-Wan, going over to poke Han in the shoulder. “You're planning on running cargo on this trip?”

“Man's gotta make a living,” Han said, peacefully.

“The Republic pays you enough,” she said.

“Chewie's saving up to buy a house on Chandrila, one with a farm attached. Costs a fair amount.” Han nodded over, and Chewie rumbled agreement. “Especially since he'll need to hire a steward to take care of it whenever he's gone.”

“A couple of days' delay... you couldn't mention this earlier?”

“Didn't know where we were going until now,” Han pointed out. “Bad idea to buy cargo before you know your destination.”

“It's not the only planet we should visit,” Leia said. She looked around at everyone – Han, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Chewie, Artoo, and Threepio – and felt the urge to sigh build up, though she kept it inside. “I don't know the exact location of the third place yet, I'm hoping I'll find out later today, but I was thinking a visit to Naboo would be useful.”

“Threepio mentioned telling you about Padmé's family,” Anakin said, sliding off of the couch. “But I'm not sure why you think seeing them will make us want to stay here. They love Padmé. Seeing them... well, it'll just remind me of all the reasons I want to save her.”

“That might be true,” Leia said. “But we won't know for sure until we go there.”

“ _You_ want to meet them,” Anakin said, his gaze shifting briefly to Luke and then back to her. “You want to visit your mother's home and get to know her family. Going with me means that I'll be able to introduce you to them and explain that you're her children.”

Leia hesitated. It was true, what he'd said, though she hadn't thought about it that way. There was no way to know if seeing Padmé's family would help or hurt her cause, but that didn't change that she wanted to see them, wanted to know them. “Will you?”

“Of course,” Anakin said, his expression serious and sincere. “It's good for you to know more about your mother. But it's possible that meeting her family, learning about her, may make _you_ change your mind, instead of me changing mine.”

“I'll take that risk.” Leia matched Anakin's steadiness with her own. He smiled again, but it was softer and smaller than before, and it looked much more real.

“Of course you will,” he said. “Taking risks is in your blood.” She bristled slightly, but then he added, “Your mother's the same way.”

“Well, me and Chewie better get started on finding some cargo for the journey to Hargoeth,” Han said, breaking the moment of silence. Leia stepped away from Anakin, who was still smiling. “Artoo, while you're putting in the coordinates for the jump, have you got some specs on what the planet pays high for?” Artoo beeped an affirmative and rolled towards Han and Chewie, the three of them heading towards the cockpit and the nav computer.

Luke touched Leia's shoulder briefly, her sense of him in her head warning her a moment before it happened. She looked over at him and wondered how much he could feel from her – she knew that he could tell more than she herself could, but how far did that go? Whatever it was he felt, it seemed to make him decide something. He turned to Anakin and Obi-Wan, saying, “How about that rematch? I'd love to learn some more techniques.”

“In the garden?” Anakin confirmed, reaching down and patting his lightsaber when Luke nodded. “Sounds fun.”

“Threepio, you should come, too,” Luke said. “There were some stories you said you wanted to tell Anakin and Obi-Wan.”

“There were? Oh! There were!” Threepio brightened up. “Excellent idea, Master Luke. I should be delighted.”

A minute or so later, she was alone in the room. She let herself gather her thoughts for a moment, and then she headed out of the _Falcon_ herself, heading for the door into the Senate building.

She inquired after Minister Mothma and, after she said she'd be willing to wait until the Minister was available, was taken to a small conference room. It didn't have much in it to serve as a distraction, only one small window that looked out at the side of another grey building, so Leia closed her eyes and practiced one of the meditation techniques that Luke had taught her a few months ago. Clear her mind and focus on her goal – the stronger her desire to achieve her goal, the better this technique should work, according to Luke.

Leia wasn't afraid to admit, at least not to herself, that the prospect of Anakin and Obi-Wan going back and erasing history scared her. Believing that they knew one way to prevent the fall of the Old Republic didn't mean that they could guess all the consequences of that act. Changing events might mean centuries of darkness instead of only a few short decades. And even if she herself still existed in the new galaxy they created, she wouldn't be herself, wouldn't be Leia Organa.

Some time later, Minister Mothma entered the room. Leia opened her eyes and went to greet the Minister, then the two of them sat down at the conference table.

“I'm asking after the aide who found Obi-Wan Kenobi's birth sister,” Leia told Mothma. “I know that you feel as I do about him remaining here in the present... I thought being able to meet the last member of his family would help. I think I recognized the voice of Juria Lelen speaking, but I didn't want to talk to her without your permission.”

“Thank you,” Mothma said. “Yes, you may speak with Juria. The main desk will be able to tell you where she's working today. Do think it will truly make a difference to Kenobi? He's never met the woman.”

“That's exactly why I think it might make a difference,” Leia said. “He'll see that he isn't alone here, in this future. That he still has people he can care about, even if the old Jedi Order is gone.”

“It would be a great boon to us, if he would stay,” Mothma said. She hesitated, then added, “What are your thoughts on Anakin Skywalker?”

“Reckless. Arrogant. Bad-tempered.” Leia paused. She couldn't just say the negative qualities that first came to mind, not if she genuinely wanted to be helpful. “But also compassionate and... and intelligent. Very good with droids and other machines.”

Mothma nodded. “That confirms much of what I remember about him as well. Beloved by the HoloNet, but careless. Aggressive. Master Kenobi would undoubtedly be an asset but I do wonder whether or not Skywalker would be able to handle peace. He's spent much of his life on one battlefield or another. To my recollection, he seemed to prefer them.”

“Unfortunately, I don't think Obi-Wan will stay if Anakin leaves.”

“Yes, their partnership was quite legendary, once upon a time,” Mothma said. “You barely ever heard one name without the other attached. Still, I believe that Kenobi has been a moderating influence on Skywalker in the past, so we must hope that will continue. If you mean to try to get them both to stay, what are your plans to convince Skywalker? Is his son being here enough?”

“We're going to visit Naboo,” Leia said. “That's where Luke's mother lived.”

“Naboo?” Mothma froze for a second, then she blinked, and her expression softened. “I see. Will you give your flight plan to one of my aides before you leave?”

“Certainly,” Leia said. “If you want it.”

“You will bring them back before the anniversary, I hope?”

“Of course,” Leia assured Mothma.

“Well, if that's all you have to ask, I'm afraid I must rush off,” Mothma said, rising from her chair. She nodded a good-bye to Leia, and left.

Leia stayed in the room for a while longer, thinking over the conversation. Mothma hadn't already known that Padmé was Luke's mother, at least not for sure. Leia wondered if she should have revealed her own relationship to the Skywalkers as well but, ultimately, she trusted her instincts not to tell. She wasn't trying to be a Jedi, no matter what Luke or Anakin said about her potential power, and being a Skywalker wouldn't help when it came to being a member of the New Republic's government.

There was also something else that was bothering her about the way that the Minister had been acting, but she couldn't place a finger on what it might have been or what it might mean. She would go over the conversation again later and see if she could tease out any new insights.

Leia found out from the aide at the main desk that Juria was working on the lower levels, in the central filing room. They'd met a few times before, so Leia had no problems recognizing her on sight – human, with auburn hair in a tightly-bound braid down her back and a scattering of freckles on her pale cheeks.

“Oh, Obi-Wan Kenobi's sister?” Juria placed a hand against the shelf, obscuring the sign. The tall shelves went up to almost double their heights, and Juria had needed to climb down a ladder to speak with Leia. “I met her when I was collecting historical information on survivors and families of the Rebellion. It was recently collated into a data slip containing only fragments that pertained to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.”

“Yes,” Leia said patiently. “Minister Mother shared that data slip with me; that's how I know about her. Can you tell me where you found her?”

“I swore that I would never place it into our databanks,” Juria said. She bit down on her lip and rubbed her hands together as she thought it over. “I could _tell_ you, I suppose. Just say it out loud. It's a technical loophole, but if the Minister said you could know...?”

“She did,” Leia confirmed.

Juria hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “All right. It's a planet off of the Perlemian trade route. It's called Columex. It's a bit rough once you get there. It was part of the Old Republic and the Empire but isn't yet part of the New Republic, so there are some factions on the surface to wary of. The basic information should be readily available in our databases. She lives in a city called Touric, on the riverbank of the Toru High River. Her name is Pele.” Juria sighed. “She won't be happy that I told you about her, so don't expect her to be welcoming.”

Leia nodded. “And her _precise_ location?”

“Look for Volune Lane, near the river. Follow that to the end of the road. It's a green house with yellow trim. Relatively small. She lives alone, I believe. At least, I didn't see anyone else while I was there.”

“Thank you,” Leia said. “I won't tell her that you told me.” Though part of her did note that it would be a good idea not to trust any of her own secrets to Juria.

Juria waved a hand dismissively. “You can if you like. I'm not likely to ever see her again, after all.”

Leia thanked Juria again and then headed back to the _Falcon_ , where she looked up information on Columex and let Han know to add that planet to their itinerary. It was another planet in the Outer Rim, but nowhere near Hargoeth and not particularly close to the route they'd need to take to get to Naboo either. After consulting with Han for a while, she came to a reluctant conclusion – they didn't have enough time to visit all three planets before the anniversary ceremony. Certainly not if they wanted to do more than simply make landfall on each.

“We could hire a ship at Hargoeth and split up from there,” Han suggested. “Anakin doesn't really need to visit Columex, right? And Obi-Wan probably doesn't care about seeing Naboo. We'd have enough time that way.” Chewie, who was also looking at the plans, nodded his agreement.

“I'm not sure either of them will like that plan,” Leia said. “But I can bring it up.”

She wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea either, but she wasn't sure how much of a choice she had. If she could convince Obi-Wan and Anakin to wait to go to Hargoeth until after the ceremony...

But she didn't really think that was likely.

She gave Han a considering look and then asked Chewie, “Hey, can you take over in here for the next couple of hours? Han and I need to take a break.” Han glanced up and, at the look on her face, smiled widely.

Chewie rumbled a laugh and said he didn't mind at all.

Afterwards, Leia thought she might sneak in a short nap. She could use the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've noted in previous chapters, I take from the EU when it's useful but ignore it otherwise. That definitely applies in this chapter to some names and places.


	51. Crossing Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin learns more than expected.

“You aren't concentrating.” Anakin helped Luke back onto his feet. Luke was moving a little stiffly from his tumble – he was going to end up with a few more bruises from today's practice than he'd gotten yesterday. Anakin frowned and reached out mentally, lightly brushing against the edges of Luke's consciousness. He sighed. “You're exhausted.”

“I'm not,” Luke protested. “I feel fine.”

“You should be exhausted,” Obi-Wan said from his own position sitting neatly on the grass at the edge of the clearing. He'd spent much of the last hour or two calling out advice to Luke, talking him through several standard training exercises. “At least, I'm guessing that's what Anakin is sensing – that you're drawing on the Force to give yourself energy.” Anakin nodded as Obi-Wan continued, “Once your weakness catches up to you, it'll be that much worse.”

“If I were doing that, I'd notice,” Luke said. He attached his lightsaber to his belt and stretched his arms up over his head, wincing slightly as the muscles pulled.

“ _I'm_ noticing,” Anakin pointed out. “Look, it's something you'll need to do in the future, when you don't have time to rest, but you've gotta learn how to know when you're doing it or you'll drop dead from exhaustion before you even realize you're tired.”

“I only missed one night of sleep,” Luke said. “I've done that before.”

“Right after you've had your inner essence drained by the Force?” Obi-Wan asked. “We might not know exactly what caused all this, but I know that you were affected when Anakin was brought here, and I suspect the same happened when I arrived.”

“Okay, that was pretty strange. And it did take a lot out of me,” Luke admitted. “But I feel great now.”

“To yourself, maybe,” Anakin said. “But, trust me, your head is all fuzzy from the outside. You need to sleep for a good long while tonight or you'll be a mess.”

“But I want to learn more,” Luke said, a hint of petulance around the corners of his mouth. “If you are planning on leaving... I might not have as much time as I'd like.”

“Your Obi-Wan – Ben – isn't of use to you?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Well, he can't exactly show me how to use a lightsaber these days,” Luke said. “And he's not around all that much. Just... sometimes.”

“We talked to him earlier,” Anakin said lightly, though he watched Luke's reaction with care. His eyes widened and his brows lifted, but there was an instinctive smile, too. No visible sign that he resented Anakin contacting the older Obi-Wan. “He wasn't all that helpful to us either.”

“He doesn't really seem to know what's going on,” Luke agreed. “He mentioned that he thinks he's accidentally blocking Obi-Wan off from the Force?”

“Did he?” Obi-Wan asked, straightening up slightly.

“Not to me,” Anakin said. “Maybe he assumed you'd already told us.”

“Ben Kenobi could be quite cryptic,” Threepio said. Anakin turned to Threepio with interest.

After initially being enthusiastic about coming along, Threepio had gone quiet, though Anakin was pretty sure he could hear the droid thinking. What Threepio was thinking about, exactly, he hadn't been ready to share with Anakin and Obi-Wan, not yet.

“Much more prone to such comments than you are, Master Kenobi,” Threepio said to Obi-Wan. “Still, we mustn't blame him. All those years in the desert. It was bound to affect his brain. Biological parts are so fragile.” He turned back to Anakin. “Master Anakin, perhaps now I should clarify my statements about your mother's death.” Luke flinched slightly, but then nodded.

“What about Padmé's death?” Anakin asked. He came closer and placed his hand against Threepio's arm. “You already told us how she died.”

“I failed to appropriately describe how peculiar it was!” Threepio wailed. “Oh, I was so overwhelmed when you brought back my memories, Master Anakin.”

“It's all right, Threepio,” Anakin said soothingly. “I'm not mad at you for anything. What didn't you tell us last time?”

Threepio looked over at Luke, the light of his eyes dimming for a brief moment. He was accessing his memory banks for exact recall, then, to make himself as reliable a witness as possible. The light brightened and he turned back towards Anakin. “She was very still. She'd been on the ground, after the argument.” Anakin shut his eyes, feeling a warning tremble deep in his bones. But he couldn't hide from any of the worst of what he'd done, not if he meant to avoid it. He'd made that promise to himself and to Obi-Wan, and he would keep it. He opened his eyes again.

“What argument?” he asked. He could feel Obi-Wan's hand resting lightly on the curve of his bicep, Obi-Wan's presence a solid, reassuring warmth behind him, though he hadn't heard Obi-Wan approaching.

“You, Mistress Padmé, and Master Kenobi were having a disagreement about...” Threepio trailed off. He threw a hand up in a mix of confusion and despair. Anakin patted his other arm comfortingly. “I don't really know. I didn't see what happened. I heard your voice being raised and the sound of... of lightsabers. After it was quiet again, I came out of Mistress Padmé's ship and she was on the ground. You and Master Obi-Wan were gone.”

 _He'd hurt Padmé_ – it was a sudden thought, cold and certain. But there was a logical inevitability to it. If Anakin had been capable of killing Obi-Wan, he must have been capable of any kind of evil act, even against the other half of his heart.

“Artoo was on Mustafar already – he'd come with you, in your starfighter,” Threepio continued. “He was very upset about your behavior. Quite concerned, truly. Well, I don't have to tell you what a delicate constitution he has. We managed to get our lady into her ship, and we waited there for the two of you to return. After an hour or so, Master Kenobi came back.”

“And I didn't,” Anakin said, softly.

“We left without you,” Threepio said. “Master Kenobi had us take Mistress Padmé to a starbase where he met with Master Yoda and Senator Organa. She did give birth there and she died, but... but the med-droid who was working with her did not _understand_ why she was dying. The events did not appear connected.”

“I see why you asked Threepio to tell us this story,” Anakin said, turning towards Luke, though he didn't move away from Obi-Wan. “You and your sister are very determined to change our minds about preventing your mother's pregnancy. Not that I can blame you for that. Anyone would do the same.”

Luke's entire face went blank for a moment, as did his mental presence.

“Oh,” Anakin said. “That's not... you _didn't_ know?”

“I didn't know,” Luke echoed faintly. “I thought... well, Leia and I thought... we thought that our lives would change so much that the people we are _now_ would cease to exist. I didn't know that you...” His gaze shifted from Anakin to Obi-Wan. “... that the plan itself was to prevent our births.”

Anakin blinked, leaning back against Obi-Wan. He might have re-evaluate some things about Luke. “Get some sleep,” he suggested again. Luke stared at him for a long moment; Anakin didn't try to figure out what he might be thinking. He was beginning to suspect that he didn't have a very good handle on the way that Luke thought. Then, Luke nodded, a little jerkily, and he stumbled out of the clearing, hopefully on his way to a bed.

“You are not Darth Vader,” Obi-Wan said. His gentleness was almost unbearable, but Anakin couldn't stand the thought of pulling away. “Whatever fight he had with Padmé and with me... that's not you.”

“It could have been,” Anakin said.

“Master Anakin, was I wrong to tell you what happened?” Threepio asked.

Anakin shook his head. “I'm glad you told me.” And that was true enough, at least. “It was the right thing to do.”

Threepio hesitated a moment and ventured, “Master Anakin, if I might be so bold as to make an observation?” Anakin nodded, a little puzzled. “You and Master Luke are not as different as perhaps you believe yourselves to be. Not from what I've seen, anyway.”

“Maybe you're right about that,” Anakin said. Or maybe they were more different than he'd ever considered. He drew in a slow breath, pushing his senses out into the world, letting the lifeforce of the plants around them steady his thoughts. “Threepio, would you wait in our room? We'll be back in a little while.”

“Of course,” Threepio said, more cheerful than he'd been all day, before he headed off.

There was no true silence anywhere there was life, but a place like this was as silent as anywhere on Coruscant could get – the sound of the constant traffic muffled by the trees that surrounded the clearing. Anakin made no immediate move to break the stillness. It was peaceful here, and Obi-Wan's presence had always been the greatest safety he'd ever known. He needed that security now, as he searched through his memories, trying to remember if anything Palpatine had ever said to him might hold a hint to why Padmé had died. If it hadn't been the births or an injury – and Anakin had met enough med-droids to trust that it should have known if either of those had been the cause of Padmé's death – then the reason was most likely related to the fall of the Jedi and the Republic.

Palpatine had never been a man to leave anything to chance. He was careful, meticulous. He always spotted and explained everything that Anakin himself felt like he'd missed about complicated situations. And Palpatine would have known that Padmé _believed_ in democracy, believed in it in ways that few other people did.

She would not have stood for the downfall of the Republic. She would have fought it.

And even if Anakin was capable of standing against Padmé – Anakin's mind rebelled against the idea, but it seemed as if it must have been true – it still would have... it would have divided Anakin's loyalties. And that would have weakened Palpatine's position, which would have been unacceptable to him.

“It was Palpatine,” Anakin said. “Somehow. It must have been.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed softly. “I suspect you're right, my friend.”

“But _how_?”

“He was a Sith Lord,” Obi-Wan said. “ _The_ Sith Lord. I'd wager he had access to many kinds of knowledge shunned by the Jedi.”

“I... Darth Vader... he believed he was working to save Padmé,” Anakin reasoned out, slowly. “Palpatine must have set that up, too. He... he created the problem and the solution. Just like with the war itself. And, like the war, it was all a trick. The Republic wasn't saved, just like Padmé wasn't.”

“It's somewhat terrifying to ponder exactly how much of our lives may have been orchestrated by that man,” Obi-Wan said. “At least we don't have to worry about _him_ while we're here.”

“Darth Vader said he had visions of her death, just as I've had visions of yours,” Anakin said. “That much couldn't have been Palpatine. It _must_ have been the Force, as it was with my mother. But why do I never seem to get there in time to save anyone? What's the point of having a vision if you can't change it?”

“I've been wondering that, too,” Obi-Wan said. “And I'm not sure you'll like my conclusions.”

“What are they?”

“I wonder if the Force isn't so much trying to warn you so that you can stop the future, but instead is trying to let you prepare yourself.”

“You think there might not be a way to save you?” Anakin turned in Obi-Wan's arms, cupping Obi-Wan's face in his hands. Obi-Wan's gaze was steady and clear, but there was a sadness in them that came close to resignation. “No. I won't let you die!”

“You might not be able to prevent it,” Obi-Wan said. “No matter how hard you try.”

How could Obi-Wan say those words so calmly? But, no, there might be calmness in his voice and on his face but Anakin could feel a fluttering worry in his mind and heart, much as Obi-Wan tried to banish it. He wasn't as placid at the idea of his own death as he was trying to sound.

“No,” Anakin repeated, firmly. “I won't give up, Obi-Wan. I'll save you.”

His kiss wasn't as gentle as he wanted it to be – his renewed fear was making him too restless, too uncontrolled – but Obi-Wan was patient enough to make up the difference. One kiss multiplied into many, and Anakin tugged Obi-Wan backward until they were out of the clearing proper and into the shade of the trees.

It would be a better idea, maybe, to take Obi-Wan back to the room, but if Anakin had learned anything from his relationship with Padmé, it was the importance of grabbing onto moments like this as they came. Few things declared _life_ in the face of potential death as powerfully as this, at least not in Anakin's experience.

Anakin reached into Obi-Wan's cloak, pressing his hand against Obi-Wan's cock and rubbing his fingers against its vague but firm line. Then he dropped to his knees. He wasn't going to try anything fancy – he wasn't quite ready to push the limits of his own ignorance – but he could see better from down here.

Obi-Wan touched Anakin's head lightly, hesitantly, then he pulled his hand away again. There was a quiet sigh and Obi-Wan fell to his knees too. Anakin squinted at him, wondering if perhaps Obi-Wan hadn't realized what Anakin had been offering. Before he could say anything, Obi-Wan was kissing him again. Anakin tilted his head into the kiss as he felt Obi-Wan reaching for his belt.

“I was thinking of something a bit more mutual this time,” Obi-Wan said, between kisses. Then his hand was on Anakin's skin and Anakin joyfully lost himself to the sensations, allowing Obi-Wan to take charge of the encounter entirely. Anakin anchored his own hands on Obi-Wan's waist as Obi-Wan took them both in hand, pressing their cocks together as his hand moved on them. Obi-Wan's grip was strong, fingers and palm callused from years of lightsaber use. He couldn't reach all the way around both of them, but Anakin didn't have the concentration to help.

He bit down on his lip as Obi-Wan's hand quickened.

Anakin's release came too quickly, his adrenaline and emotions still boiling over from earlier.

There was a slight pang of disappointment at his lack of stamina, but it faded quickly. He was able to focus on Obi-Wan now, in a way that he couldn't when he was feeling so worked up. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan's. Being able to give his attention to Obi-Wan was its own kind of reward, in any case. He couldn't see much of Obi-Wan's skin, which was unfortunate, but he could feel the give of smooth skin and he could sense Obi-Wan's lust and his affection and the way both centered on Anakin's presence.

With both of them working on Obi-Wan, it wasn't long before Obi-Wan's own feelings frothed and bubbled up inside him, happiness and desire intermingling as he came as well. 

Anakin breathed in and out until his heartbeat had returned to normal. He touched the mess they'd left, but while he was still deciding the best way to deal with the hassle, Obi-Wan pulled out a small bit of cloth and use it to clean them up.

 _That_ brought a contented smile to Anakin's mouth – Obi-Wan had considered and planned for this possibility.

“You are worth more than a life lesson to teach me how to let go of the people I love,” Anakin said, putting as much certainty into his voice as he could muster. Even under the protection of the trees, there was more than enough light for him to see Obi-Wan's pained reaction to that. Anakin caught his hand, brought it up to his mouth for a kiss. “I'm not giving up. Not on you or on finding our way back home.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, but he didn't protest.

“So, we're going to be here for a couple of days, until Han gets his cargo,” Anakin said, briskly, putting himself back together and getting back to his feet as Obi-Wan did the same. “That means we'll be around for that meeting I was telling you about. Sure you don't want to come with me?”

“You might need a distraction so that you can get away unseen,” Obi-Wan said. “If Luke hadn't been more tired than he wanted to admit, he probably wouldn't have left us alone just now.”

“You distract, I escape,” Anakin said. “Sounds like a solid plan. I _do_ want you to meet their leader sometime, though, Master. She's... she's smart. I think you'd like her. She cares about politics but I wouldn't call her a politician.”

“If we stay here for a while longer, I'm sure I'll get the chance,” Obi-Wan said. “So, then, what now?”

“Hmm, we _could_ go back to our room like they'd want us to do...”

“...or we could explore the area a bit on our own before your children realize we've slipped our leashes,” Obi-Wan finished. He smoothed down the front of his cloak, more than a touch of mischief in his smile. “Well, then, let's go see what else this new time has to offer.”


	52. As the Galaxy Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han has given up on hoping for peace and quiet.

“Earliest possible delivery would be tomorrow evening. The eighteenth hour.”

“Tomorrow would be perfect,” Han agreed. Spiced rum, silk, and nav transistors made for an odd set of cargo, but Artoo's calculations on the profits seemed sound, so Han just smiled at Graloa and signed off on the datapad she handed him.

Graloa's warehouse echoed with the calls of her workers, who darted here and there among the tall shelves, half of them fluttering above the ground on either natural or artificial wings. Graloa herself was a solid, middle-aged Lepi, who'd left her bounding days long behind her, though her whiskers and softly-furred ears still twitched at every sound. Han hadn't worked with her before joining up with the Republic – Graloa was much too respectable for her name to have even been known by a smuggler – but over the past year, Han had gotten to know a lot of people he'd never have been willing to work with before he'd met Leia and Luke. Graloa had a strong reputation for honest trading and that was something Han had come to appreciate recently, though he was wary of becoming respectable himself.

The Senate building was a forty-five minute aircab ride from the warehouse, but Han wasn't in any hurry. Leia had been deeply asleep when he'd left, and it had looked like she'd needed the rest. It would be better if he stayed away for a little while and didn't risk waking her up.

So, when he got into the aircab, he had them take him to the Jedi Temple.

He'd been expecting an empty building of horrors – Luke had filled him in on how it felt to go there – but, instead, the place was swarming with Republic workers. They seemed to be cleaning it from top to bottom. The steps and outer walls were being scrubbed and there was a constant buzz in and out of the doors, people coming and going with buckets and rags.

Han stopped by one of the people working on the front steps and asked what was going on.

“Top priority,” he was told by the young man, who didn't bother setting aside his scrub-brush for the conversation. “We're trying to have the place cleaned up before the anniversary. It'll take some doing! But it sounds like it's important to the Minister.”

He'd hoped to have a quiet look inside the building, but it didn't seem like that would be possible now. All this had to be Obi-Wan's doing, somehow, and Han sent a brief silent curse in the man's direction. Han walked up the steps anyway, dodging several more workers as he headed towards the main doors. No one seemed to be taking much notice of him. It was, after all, a public building these days. Owned by no one and abandoned by everyone. Or at least it had been. Han wondered if the Republic would take ownership of it or if it would pass to Luke, as the Republic's official Jedi presence. Well, it wasn't any of Han's business.

Inside, lights had been set up to reach into every corner and banish every shadow. This seemed to be where the main base for the cleaning had been set up, and Han was careful to slip around a corner before one of the managers with a datapad noticed him and either tried to put him to work or asked him to leave. As he traveled further down the hall, fewer passages were lit – they were cleaning section by section – and he headed down one of the darker corridors.

He'd let himself get a little distracted by the family holodrama aspect of Kenobi and Skywalker being around. Enough that he hadn't fully realized what a huge impact they were already having on the Republic itself. There were dozens of workers here, maybe more than a hundred. That morning, Minister Mothma had made special arrangements to talk to Kenobi discretely. What else was being affected by their presence? And how much of that would affected by their absence when they left?

Han had never thought too deeply about philosophical or metaphysical junk – it seemed to get in the way more than anything else – but he was being forced to think about it now. It was tempting to agree with Kenobi and Skywalker that they just didn't belong here, but how long would it have taken the New Republic to clean up the scar of the Jedi Temple if left to their own devices? Hell, it was their arrival that had made Han take his own childhood back out of the box he'd put it in when the Republic had fallen. No one who had lived through the years of the Empire had any shine left in them, but Obi-Wan and Anakin still sparkled. At least on the surface, they were a reminder of... of when the world had been shiny and full of promise.

A reminder of childish, _foolish_ fantasies.

Still, there were a lot of people out there who would fall right back into those dreams once it was confirmed that Kenobi and Skywalker were back. 

Han didn't know whether to pity those people or envy them.

He climbed up more stairs and then turned down a hallway, this one only dimly lit, the floors coated with a thick layer of dust that swirled up as he passed. There were several doors here – most were shut but there were a few standing open. He glanced inside the nearest.

It was someone's personal quarters.

He rubbed the dust out of his eyes and stepped inside cautiously. There was more dust here, covering every surface. The room itself was austere, though they were up high enough that the view from the windows showed a good portion of the city and a wide expanse of sky. He started into the room and then stopped.

Something crunched under his boot.

Han backed away carefully and then looked down. An outstretched arm, bone as layered in dust as everything else in here was, and the remains of a body that looked like it had been roughly humanoid in shape when it had been alive. It looked as though the skeleton – the Jedi – had been holding something in their hand when they died, but there was nothing in the clutch of its skeletal fingers. Had all the lightsabers of the fallen Jedi been collected by the Empire?

Had Obi-Wan and Anakin seen any of this when Luke had brought them to the Temple?

Han gave the room another long glance. There was a painting on the wall that he hadn't noticed at first, though the dust made it impossible to see what the subject was. Something dark, maybe mountains? There was a table underneath the painting, and a empty stand rested on the table. Maybe it's where the Jedi had kept their lightsaber at night.

There was another room beyond this one – likely the bedroom, since Han saw nothing out here for anyone to sleep on – but he was reluctant to invade the skeleton's privacy any further. The cleaners would get to this room in their own time.

He wondered how many other rooms in the Temple were still occupied. The main rooms had been cleared long ago by the Empire itself but, clearly, they hadn't gone through each personal room afterwards, even if they'd killed someone in it. Had this Jedi been asleep when the attack had begun?

He couldn't stay here.

As Han headed out of the Temple, this time he stopped to talk to one of the managing workers in the main hall. He told her about the body and let her know that any they found should be collected for funeral rites. She nodded solemnly and added a note to her datapad. He could hear her talking to some of her staff as he walked through the large doors. When he got clear of the Temple, he took several deep breaths, clearing his lungs of the dust from inside.

He'd seen dead people before, of course, but there was something about the stillness of that room that made it linger in his mind.

When he got back to the _Falcon_ , Chewie told him that Leia was still asleep. Chewie also let him know that Luke had come in about an hour ago, and he'd seemed as exhausted as Leia.

“We'll let them get rested up,” Han told Chewie. “They've had a rough couple of days.”

He and Chewie spent the next few hours working on the engines, repairing and upgrading systems. Working with Chewie was as familiar and relaxing as always, and talking to him let Han finally shake the image of that quiet, dusty room. He considered asking Chewie about his own memories of the Old Republic – he was old enough to remember something, after all – but they'd never pried into each other's pasts before.

They were just about done with the air circulator when Luke wandered in, yawning slightly. “Remind me to thank Anakin,” Luke said, wryly.

“Oh?”

“Apparently, a Jedi can work himself to death if he doesn't watch out for the signs,” Luke said, linking his hands together and stretching them out over his head. “I can call myself a Jedi all I want, but there's still so much I don't know about the basics of _being_ a Jedi.”

“You do okay,” Han said, putting down his plasma coupler and wiping his forehead. “They may have known a lot, but that didn't keep them alive.”

“That doesn't actually make me feel any better.”

“Just... knowledge isn't everything. Sometimes, intuition can be just as important.” Han picked the coupler back up and leaned back into his work. “You managed to defeat the Emperor without knowing all of that Jedi mumbo-jumbo. You'll manage the rest fine without it, too.”

“Anakin defeated the Emperor,” Luke correctly, absently. “I just... managed to touch the part of him that was still good. If he hadn't turned away from the Dark Side at the last second, then I would have died up there.”

“Exactly,” Han said. “It wasn't Jedi knowledge that made Anakin hear you, was it?”

“No, I suppose not,” Luke said. He shook his head. “It's just such... when I think about restoring the Jedi Order, it seems impossible sometimes. Even with the support of the Republic, it's a huge job. What if I'm not up to it?”

“Luke, you have been handling impossible tasks since the day I met you,” Han said. “Making me handle them, too. I guess you should ask yourself why this seems harder than everything else you've managed to do the last few years.”

There was a pause.

“I don't want to make the same mistakes that they made,” Luke said finally. “But I also don't want to throw away the parts of their wisdom that _worked_.”

To Han's surprise, Chewie put down his tools and went over to wrap Luke up in a hug that lifted him off his feet. He said something to Luke but, for once, his voice was quiet enough that Han couldn't make out any exact words. The smile on Luke's face, though, told Han that it wasn't anything bad.

“Thanks, Chewie,” Luke said. “And... can we talk about this more later?”

Chewie agreed with a rumble and then went back to work. Han narrowed his eyes at Chewie thoughtfully, but didn't press. Instead, he asked Luke, “Have you talked to your ghost about any of this?”

“A little,” Luke said.

“And the one that's walking around now?”

“Obi-Wan and Anakin are... complicated,” Luke said. “It's getting better, I think.”

“Do you still suspect they might be, you know, screwing?” Han asked. Luke winced slightly.

“I'm not sure,” he said, frowning. “We talked about my mother and Anakin seems so... so sincere in his love for her that it's hard to picture him wanting to be with someone else. But I've never been in love like that with anyone, so I'm not sure that I know how it works at all.”

“I can't help much either,” Han told him. “I've had crushes before, but your sister was... was like... I don't know, like I was hit in the head by a heavy object. I was dizzy and confused and in pain for a while, then my sight cleared up and I haven't looked at anything the same way since.”

“You think you could ever feel that way about someone else?” Luke asked.

“It's hard to imagine,” Han said. “I met a _lot_ of people before we rescued Leia, but I wasn't prepared at all for knowing her. Even when she made me want to tear my hair out, I couldn't quite picture my life without her.”

“The way Anakin talks about my mother is different than how he talks about Obi-Wan,” Luke said. “Maybe they really are just very close friends.” He sighed. “At least they know the whole story behind Padmé's death now. As much as anyone knows.”

“He doesn't hate you anymore?”

Luke laughed. “I'm not sure I'd go that far. But he seemed... concerned that I might burn out. Told me to get some sleep. That's something.”

“Sure,” Han agreed, but it didn't seem like much to him. “You wanna head back over to talk to them?”

Luke wrinkled his nose. “Let's wait until Leia wakes up.”

Luke and Chewie played Dejarik while Han worked on the coolant systems. It was the last system that they really needed to get up to snuff before breaking atmosphere. It was only about an hour or two later that Leia came out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“I feel so much better,” she said, sitting down next to Han. “I guess I was more tired than I realized.”

“We both were,” Luke said. Leia smiled over at him and then frowned. She looked around the room.

“Luke, I thought you were going to stay with Anakin and Obi-Wan?”

“I _was_ with them,” he said. “Then Anakin warned me that I should get some sleep before I collapsed.”

“Are Threepio and Artoo here?” she asked.

“Artoo's in the cargo bay,” Han said. “Threepio is... I guess he's still with Anakin and Obi-Wan.”

“So, no one is watching Anakin and Obi-Wan?” Leia asked. “No one except the droid that Anakin built?”

“Oh.” Luke blinked and sat forward. “I never even thought about that. Mothma even asked me to keep an eye on them. How could I just walk away?”

Leia shook her head. “I can't believe I let myself go to sleep without knowing where they were.”

“I'm sure they're just in the room that Mothma gave them,” Luke said, but even he didn't sound like he believed it.

When they got to the room that Anakin and Obi-Wan were sharing, Threepio opened the door and stood in the middle of the doorway. He glanced over the three of them and then asked, “Yes, Master Luke, did you need something?”

“Anakin and Obi-Wan,” Luke said, patiently. “We need to talk to them.”

“Ah,” Threepio said. “It's not a good time.”

“Why not?” Leia asked, peering around Threepio and frowning when he moved to block her view. She raised her voice, “General Kenobi! I have a question!”

“I'm afraid that Masters Anakin and Kenobi cannot help you at the moment,” Threepio said. “Perhaps I can be of service? I know many of the same things that they know, as we've been acquainted for so long. I could tell you another story about your mother!”

“Are they here?” Han asked.

“Here?” Threepio repeated. “In this location, you mean? This room, at this time?”

“They're not here,” Han told Luke and Leia. He looked back at Threepio. “Do you know where they went?”

Threepio stared at them, silent.

“Threepio, they're not in trouble,” Luke said earnestly. “We just need to talk to them. Did they... did they ask you not to talk to us?”

“Well, no, they didn't,” Threepio admitted. After a long pause, he added, “I suppose there's no _true_ harm in saying that they haven't been back yet.”

“Back from?”

“The gardens, Master Luke,” Threepio said. “They told me to wait for them here and I've been waiting. They haven't come yet, but they always do eventually. Well, someone does, at least.”

“How long have you been waiting?” Leia asked.

“Ah, just over eight hours,” Threepio said. “If you count how long it took me to walk here.”

Leia turned to Luke and asked, urgently, “Can you sense them? Are they still on Coruscant?”

Luke shook his head. “I can't be sure. Anakin doesn't really want me in his head.”

“You think they might have left for Hargoeth without us?” Han asked.

“I don't want to think that General Kenobi was lying to me,” Leia said. “But I can't be certain he wasn't.”

“I can assure you all that Master Kenobi would _never_ leave if he'd promised to stay,” Threepio said. He tilted his head to the side slightly and added, “Well, not unless it was urgent, I suppose. Or very important. Or because of an order from the Jedi Council, though I suppose that's rather unlikely.”

“Thanks,” Leia said sourly.

“You're quite welcome,” Threepio said. “In any case, I'm sure they'll be back. They do always come back, even when you think there's no chance you'll ever see them again.”

“Thank you, Threepio,” Luke said, sounding a lot more sincere than his sister had. “Can we wait for them in here?”

“In this room?” Threepio asked. “Ah. Well. Perhaps the _Millennium Falcon_ would be more comfortable.”

“It's not that comfortable a ship,” Leia said. She completely ignored Han's indignant reply and asked, “Is there something in there we shouldn't see?”

“Privacy is something all beings are entitled to, is it not?” Threepio asked. “Besides, there's data slips littering every surface.” He stepped back and the door slid shut again.

Han took Leia by the shoulders and gently tugged her away. “Isn't there a room on this block that we can wait in until they get back?” She was still staring hard at the door, as if trying to look through it.

“They're hiding something,” she said. “I don't know if it's what we think it is, but it's something.”

“They don't have to tell us everything,” Luke said. Leia let out a frustrated sigh.

And it was back to the Skywalker holodrama, it seemed.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of a day spent exploring Coruscant, Obi-Wan and Anakin are almost ready to head back to the New Senate and Anakin's children.

“How much do we have left?” Obi-Wan leaned in towards Anakin as they approached the main counter of the bar, the ambient noise of the room nearly drowning him out even to his own ears. Still, it seemed a nice enough place, despite being rather gloomily called _Gallow's End_. There was a live band on stage playing a sultry tune, a few couples plastered together on the dance floor, and most of the tables were filled with chattering groups. The lights were low and warmly tinted, hiding flaws and encouraging intimacy.

Anakin quickly sorted through the coins and the paper currency they'd won earlier, then slipped most of it back into a pouch. “Two-hundred and fifty. But we should save some of it for later.”

“On the surface, Coruscant has barely changed,” Obi-Wan said, taking the coins that Anakin handed him and waving at the bartender, a six-limbed female Besalisk taller and slimmer than Dex. She gestured back absently with one of her unoccupied hands, and he settled back to wait his turn. “At least once you get beyond the areas that most of the Jedi frequented regularly.”

“I've been listening – people are glad that things are getting back to normal,” Anakin said. He was staring far too intently at the crowd to be properly inconspicuous. Anakin's gaze could be fairly unnerving to people who weren't used to him. “But they don't talk about it too loudly. I think part of them is still afraid the wrong kind of person will hear.” Obi-Wan nodded.

“The Empire bred their culture of fear quite successfully,” he noted. “I suspect Palpatine had been planning for decades before he made his move, with many of his plots in motion long before he knew either of us.”

Obi-Wan traded the coins for a pair of glasses topped up with a local brew, and he and Anakin made their way to the back of the room, where Anakin found them an empty table in the darkest corner. Here, he could see the full splendor of the place – intricate stained-glass windows let in only the dimmest light from outside, with most of the room lit instead by faux-candlelight in wall sconces and lightly hovering globes. The tables and chairs were genuine wood, and of a high quality, if Obi-Wan's senses were not deceiving him.

He sat down and slid Anakin's drink over. Anakin wrapped his fingers around the glass and tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Luke is looking for us.”

“Took them long enough,” Obi-Wan said, raising up his own draft and taking a sip. “Will he find us?”

Anakin shook his head. “I don't think he'll pick up on me as long as I'm not trying to do anything flashy. He's not focusing on this district. I don't think he knew you long enough to realize how much you like a good drink.”

“Well, it's hardly one of my defining characteristics,” Obi-Wan said.

“Master, remember that drinking contest on Duelle Eight?” Anakin asked, clasping his hand over Obi-Wan's wrist gently. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes were soft and amused. “You drank _everyone_ under the table.”

“Lightweights, all of them,” Obi-Wan said, with a snort. “Champions of the Quaffing Hall, indeed. Not a single one could handle anything stronger than a few light ales.” He glanced down at his glass. “Still, I best not overindulge tonight. There's no telling if my tolerance was related to my Force sensitivity. And I'd rather _not_ have you hauling me back over your shoulder.”

“Not the most dignified pose,” Anakin agreed. “So, we are going back?”

“We did promise, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. His words were punctuated by a flourish of sound as the band switched to a more upbeat number, and several more pairs and some trios headed to the middle of the floor to dance.

“I know, I know.” Anakin sighed heavily. “But I was thinking... it won't hurt to wait and go back in the morning.”

“And let your children spend the entire night awake, tiring themselves in their search for us?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin shrugged, having the grace to look slightly guilty. But he soon shook it off and started looking over the room again. Obi-Wan frowned. “Anakin, is there a reason you chose this bar in particular?”

Anakin shifted uneasily. “Maybe. It's nothing I can pinpoint. I just had a feeling as we were passing that there was someone familiar here. I don't know if they're a worker or one of the customers.”

Obi-Wan glanced over the room again, more carefully, studying faces and bodies. He didn't recognize anyone but, then again, it had been over twenty years. Just because Mon Mothma had looked much the same as her old self was no guarantee that everyone else they'd known would. “Do you know which direction they're in?”

“It's faint. It's different than it should be, maybe because of how much time has passed, but I-” Anakin pursed his lips tightly for a moment. He swore briefly. “They just walked outside, whoever they were. No point in chasing after them – the streets are too crowded and my sense of them isn't strong enough.”

“Could they have been a surviving Jedi?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I don't think so,” Anakin said. “I just wish I could remember where I'd felt them before.”

“Keep thinking about it; perhaps it'll come to you,” Obi-Wan advised. “Meanwhile, try to enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I will,” Anakin said. His hand slid down Obi-Wan's wrist and he rubbed light circles into Obi-Wan's palm. Obi-Wan flexed his hand gently, taking his own advice and letting himself embrace the fuzzy lightheadedness that Anakin's touch had inspired the last couple of days. He smiled back warmly at Anakin and then lifted his glass to his mouth again.

An hour or so later, after another drink and some food, the two of them left the bar, heading back out into the night-time streets of Coruscant. The constant lights of traffic weren't as visible down here on the ground, but Coruscant was never truly dark, with lamps gleaming from every corner and windows adding their own blazes to the evening as well.

A few paces away from the bar, Anakin slowed and tapped Obi-Wan lightly on the shoulder. He made the gesture they'd decided on to indicate that someone was following them. He added, in a soft voice, “The same presence I felt earlier. They must have recognized me too.”

Obi-Wan dipped his head in a shallow nod. A few more subtle motions passed between them as they decided on a course of action. They turned and entered a dim sidestreet. Anakin indicated that the presence had followed them. They led their guest further down the path and Obi-Wan stopped next to a vendor selling some baubles. Anakin continued walking, past the pool of light around the vender's cart until he was swallowed by darkness. An old man hobbled past Obi-Wan, leaning heavily on a cane that tapped quietly on the ground. Obi-Wan purchased a silver-coated ring, making certain that his negotiations carried loudly into the night air, and then slipped it into his pocket and followed the older man out of the light.

As planned, Anakin had turned yet again into an even darker alley, igniting his lightsaber as soon as he spotted Obi-Wan at the mouth of the street. The old man, caught between them, gasped audibly as he stared in Anakin's direction. Obi-Wan grabbed the man's arms gently from behind and said, “Please don't be alarmed. We only wish to know who you are, not frighten you into an early grave.”

“Frighten me?” There was a gruff laugh, familiar to Obi-Wan's ears. Tentatively, he released his captive, who made no moves to escape but did turn so that he could better see them both. Anakin came closer, but seeing the man in better light did no help. There was something there that Obi-Wan recognized, but wrinkles and lines had reshaped the landscape of the man's face to a much greater extent than time had touched Mon Mothma. “I would never do such dishonor to my training. Still, I am surprised. You haven't aged a day.”

That voice did what the face could not – Obi-Wan blinked in astonishment but ventured, “Commander Cody?”

“It's him, all right,” Anakin confirmed. “Even if he's older than he should be.”

“So, I'm me and you're you,” Cody said. “And, if you don't mind me being frank, you being you is much more impressive than me being me. Considering that you're supposed to be dead.”

“There's quite a story there, if you'd like to hear it,” Obi-Wan said. He let go of Cody and backed away a few steps, squinting to make out Cody's face more clearly. Cody stared at them for a time, his lips moving soundlessly. He nodded, firming his grip on his cane.

“I have a place nearby,” Cody suggested. Obi-Wan exchanged glances with Anakin, and then nodded.

Anakin turned off his lightsaber and returned it to his belt, and they both followed Cody back into the side street and then down and across five streets until they came to a residential block. Cody was on the ground floor, near the back of the building.

He had a simple set of rooms, decorated with a handful of tapestries and weapons on the walls. There was a window but even in the daylight there wouldn't be much of a view, Cody told them, as he let them get settled in. There were hooks for their cloaks and chairs enough for them both to have one, though Cody himself sat on the bed in the middle of the room. He insisted on it; better for his bones and his back, he said.

“Well, then, I'd love to know what you're doing here,” Cody said. “And looking the way you do.”

He listened intently as they spoke about Hargoeth and their theories about how they'd traveled here, nodded in a few places. Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan elaborated on the emotional repercussions of their arrival, but they did talk a bit about their surprise at there being a _New_ Republic and what that meant.

At the end, Obi-Wan asked, “They told us that the clone troopers turned on their generals. That they killed them. Is that true?”

Cody sighed heavily, looking down at his clasped hands.

“Order six-six. Aye.” He rubbed his fingers together restlessly, and for a moment that faint rasping was the only sound in the quiet room. “I'd like to be able to tell you I didn't follow it...”

There was a heavy silence.

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin, but Anakin's gaze was fixed on Cody's face.

“...but you can't,” Anakin concluded. He held up a hand before Cody could respond. “From what I understand, I was no better. I'm not judging you, Commander.”

Cody glanced back and forth between them for a few moments.

“I'm glad you already know,” he said slowly. “I wasn't relishing telling either of you about Darth Vader.”

“You knew?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning forward.

“All of us did,” Cody said. “You have to know who _not_ to shoot, after all. Skywalker, you best be careful here. I'm not only clone trooper who survived the Empire's fall. Age has taken its toll on us, faster than it would for anyone else, but enough are alive that it could cause a problem for you. If they recognized you.”

“And how did you survive?” Anakin asked. “After the Empire fell, wouldn't you be a target?”

“After I aged out of my prime, I trained new non-clone troops for a few years. Stormtroopers, we called them. Five years ago, I fell wrong, hurt my hip in a way surgery couldn't fix. I retired after that and I've living here since.” Cody shrugged. “I've been lucky, I suppose.” He looked directly at Obi-Wan, his gaze still clear and sharp. “General Kenobi... I tried to kill you. I'm sorry about that. It wasn't an order I was capable of disobeying, not back then, but I _am_ sorry.”

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan said gently. “That couldn't have been easy to tell me.”

“You deserved to know,” Cody said. “And you deserve revenge, if you want it...”

“No.” Obi-Wan reached out and covered Cody's hand with his own. “No, my friend, I don't.”

“Why _are_ you here, if not for revenge?” Cody asked. “Why would the Force bring you here?”

“We don't know,” Anakin said, slumping back against his chair. “Something happened to us on a mission and then... then we were here. We're still trying to figure why and how. Everyone in this time seems to have their own theories, but we don't know anything for certain.”

“Cody, what do you know about this New Republic and this new galaxy that we have?” Obi-Wan asked. “We've spent much of our time here in the company of people who helped build the New Republic. Hardly unbiased sources.”

“Never thought much about politics. I was only ever good at one thing,” Cody said. “But... the streets are cleaner now, more peaceful but also louder. People are less afraid, I suppose. You can speak up against the New Republic and not worry about having an example made out of you. So, I'd say they're alright.”

They'd heard similar stories from other people today in the streets of Coruscant. In general, the population seemed tentatively in favor of the current government. There were certainly outliers and splinter groups like the one that Anakin's new friend belonged to, but as Cody mentioned, they didn't have to hid in the shadows or create a resistance. They could say their views loudly and publicly. From what they'd read, it was quite the turnaround from how things had been a few years ago.

“Thank you for talking to us, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, releasing Cody's hand and standing up. “We should probably get back to the Senate building now. We have... some people waiting on us. We'll talk again, and soon, I hope.”

“It _is_ good to see you again,” Anakin said as they all walked toward the main door. “I'm glad you made out of the war alive. All of you deserved better than how Palpatine treated you.”

“So did you,” Cody said, with a catch in his voice that made Obi-Wan glance at him sharply.

He wondered how many times Cody had seen Darth Vader after the Republic had fallen, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask. Not after he'd seen how Anakin had reacted to that holovid. Perhaps if he had the chance to talk alone with Cody, he'd ask him more about Vader, but not now.

Cody opened the door and stood back to let them pass by. “Safe journey... my friends.”

The first few minutes of their journey back to the Senate building were silent, then Anakin said, in a voice that was carefully modulated to carry only as far as Obi-Wan, “They were slaves all along, then, and not soldiers.”

It wasn't quite what Obi-Wan had been expecting him to say. “I suppose they were,” he responded automatically, more to prompt Anakin to continue speaking than anything else.

“And the Jedi Council never...” Anakin was trailing his hand along the side of a building as they walked, not looking at Obi-Wan.

“No, we didn't,” Obi-Wan said, mouth twisting with distaste. “We didn't want to think of it that way, so we didn't. Clone troopers, bred for obedience, and we never _thought_.” We thought of them as being like droids, perhaps, but that argument wouldn't hold any weight with Anakin. And perhaps he was right to feel that way. “First, we were grateful that they were there exactly when we needed them. And then we were always so very busy with the war. Palpatine created his trap very neatly, didn't he?”

“For the Jedi, and for the Republic,” Anakin agreed ruefully. “And for me.”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, then he reached out and wrapped his hand around Anakin's elbow, tugging him closer. Anakin stiffened slightly but almost immediately relaxed, reaching over to pat Obi-Wan's hand gently into place. Obi-Wan might not be able to sense emotions through the Force right now, but he knew Anakin well enough to tell how pleased he was with Obi-Wan's gesture.

They strolled along the street in silence again, but a more peaceful and companionable one. It was a beautiful evening – the lights of the city never truly were dim enough to make out stars from this close to the ground, but there was the suggestion of stars in the skies beyond the towers and constant traffic of speeders. Anakin was a warm presence against his side, and his arm tucked rather neatly into Anakin's, ensuring that Anakin was never more than a step away. They headed back towards the Senate building but didn't rush.

It was a lovely night for a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait on this chapter. I've had some employment issues going on, but I have a more regular schedule now, so should hopefully be able to get on track with the story.
> 
> P.S. I did get a chance to see the new _Star Wars_ and I really enjoyed it.  <3


End file.
